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4 ‘he is a very little fellow^that’s true, and would 

DO BETTER FOR THE THEATRE DES VARIETES” 

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MONSIEUR DUPIN 
THE DETECTIVE TALES OF 
EDGAR ALLAN POE 


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The Illustrations by Charles Raymond Macauley 


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THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copiee Received 

OCT 20 1904 


Copyright Entry 
CLASS CL XXc. No: 


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Copyright, 1904, by 
McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 
Published , October , 1904 





















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CONTENTS 

The Murders in the Rue Morgue, 5 
The Mystery of Marie Rog§t, 81 
The Purloined Letter, 189 
Thou Art the Man, 231 
The Gold-Bug, 265 


‘ V 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do 
better for the Theatre des Varietes.” Frontispiece 

“ A spectacle presented itself which struck every one 
present not less with horror than with astonish- 
ment,” 22 

At this glimpse he nearly fell from his hold through 
excess of horror, 74 

“Now where is that rudderless boat?” 180 

“D — rushed to a casement, . . . and looked 

out,” 224 

“ Thou art the man!” 256 

Here again he made an anxious examination of the 
paper, 274 

“ You scoundrel ! . . . which is your left eye ?” 298 



















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V i 







































INTRODUCTION 


The five stories that are here reprinted are given a 
classification of their own by Stedman and Wood- 
berry in their edition of Poe’s works, as Tales of Ra- 
tiocination. The grouping I have retained, but not 
the precise order, for I have wished in the present 
collection to throw the emphasis upon the stories as 
detective stories and upon the character of M. C. 
Auguste Dupin, who appears in but three of the five. 
Hence I have placed first, not “The Gold-Bug,” 
which is scarcely a detective story at all, though the 
methods employed in it for the discovery of hidden 
treasure are identical with those employed in the 
others for the detection of crime, but “ The Murders 
in the Rue Morgue,” in which that talented amateur, 
M. Dupin, is introduced, and his methods are ex- 


IV 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


plained. Then follow, as in the edition referred to, 
“The Mystery of Marie Roget,” “The Purloined 
Letter,” which completes the Dupin cycle, and “ Thou 
Art the Man,” which, although there is in it more of 
the grotesque and extravagant, is still a detective 
story. “The Gold-Bug,” which closes the volume, 
might have been omitted altogether without detri- 
ment to the unity of the collection. But I have been 
unwilling, even for the sake of such unity, to omit a 
tale that displays so wonderfully, although in another 
field, those brilliant reasoning powers which, quite 
aside from their dual fascination of terror and mys- 
tery, give the group as a whole their peculiar and 
perennial interest. 

Poe is universally recognized as the father of the 
detective story. He was the first to perceive the lit- 
erary possibilities of that form of mental activity 
involved in the ferreting out by the sleuths of the law, 
from dark clues and apparently insufficient data, the 
secrets of baffling and mysterious crimes. Crime 
itself was a common enough motive in the fiction of 


INTRODUCTION v 

Poe’s day. A favorite theme for a “Blackwood’s 
Story ” — Poe had a sovereign contempt for the type 
— was a bizarre and outrageous crime the horrible 
and unnatural features of which were dwelt upon 
and elaborated with a morbid or melodramatic in- 
sistence. But, while the interest generally turned on 
a mystery connected with its commission, the de- 
nouement, which consisted in the revelation of the 
guilty person, did not result from the employment of 
the processes of ratiocination, but from some strange 
accident or coincidence, some quasi-supernatural 
agency of nature or of conscience, wherein one seemed 
to detect the hand of God. 

One may say that Poe did not believe in Provi- 
dence, or at least in its employment for artistic pur- 
poses. He had a repugnance for those combina- 
tions of fortuitous circumstances from which other 
writers were wont either to derive sensational effects 
or to assert the operation in the physical universe 
of a moral law of justice. Hence his interest in the 
subject-matter of criminology was of an entirely dif- 
ferent order. For the murder itself he cared little, 


vi MONSIEUR DUPIN 

and for the moral issues and dramatic value still less ; 
but when it was attended by circumstances that ob- 
scured the motive and the identity of the perpetrator, 
he was attracted as by a problem in chess or mathe- 
matics, and proceeded to frame a theory based upon 
the clues in the case and the general laws of chance. 
And in the same way, but in the reverse order, he 
would, failing an actual case, premise a set of clues 
and then proceed to induce from them, working 
backwards, a complete and elaborate fiction of his 
own invention. He had then only to eliminate the 
intermediate stages in the process, in order to have 
in all its essentials the basis of the modern detective 
story. 

Here, then, is the genesis of an artistic form that 
was wholly original with Poe and that no other writer 
had even anticipated. Simple as it may appear, it 
required, nevertheless, a higher degree of intellec- 
tuality than was ordinarily employed in the lighter 
forms of narrative art. But Poe was fundamentally 
a philosopher, to whom by caprice nature had given 
the sensibility of an artist. The exercise of the mind 


INTRODUCTION vii 

in its highest functions, even without an object, 
merely as a game, had for him ever the highest fas- 
cination. Even from the romantic point of view he 
regarded it as the ultimate form of human activity. 
Compared with an excursion into the domains of 
inductive analysis or the calculus of probabilities, 
a voyage to the most inaccessible quarter of the globe 
would have seemed tame and devoid of interest, 
although the “Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym ” 
shows what Poe’s imagination could make of the 
nineteenth century spirit of exploration and dis- 
covery. 

Not, indeed, that he was indifferent, even when 
engaged in the solution of the most intricate problems 
of analysis, to the secondary romantic considera- 
tions of place and circumstance as enhancements of 
the main interest. Hence he was led to lay the 
scene of his three most famous detective stories in 
Paris. Poe had never visited that city, but he had 
studied its topography and saturated himself with its 
nomenclature until he had succeeded in completely 
realizing the special atmosphere of the place. In- 


viii MONSIEUR DUPIN 

deed, paradoxical as it may seem, we doubt if any 
one else has ever felt Paris as Poe felt it, with so deli- 
cate an imaginative perception of its oppressive 
antiquity, of its crazy dilapidation and squalor in 
places, and of the forsakenness of human life in its 
haunts in the dark alleys and under the bridges of 
the Seine, forever giving up its nameless dead. The 
Morgue! that is the symbol of one side of Paris. 
And with what extraordinary sense of keeping did 
Poe choose this word for the name of the street in 
which he placed his grisly tragedy. A French critic 
took Poe to task when this story appeared in the 
Charivari , for having chosen the name of a street 
that did not exist. It exists, however, far more truly 
than many a real street in that city, exists as part 
of that imperishable plan that shall survive when 
of Lutetia of the Parisians there is not left stand- 
ing one stone upon another. Poe’s Paris is a city 
of the mind, and its precincts and purlieus, steeped 
in mystery and haunted with horror, are the scenes 
of a strange and disquieting general human tragedy 
in which 


INTRODUCTION ix 

“ Mimes, in the form of God on high. 

Mutter and mumble low. 

And hither and thither fly — 

Mere puppets they, who come and go 
At bidding of vast, formless things 
That shift the scenery to and fro. 

Flapping from out their Condor wings 
Invisible Wol if 

But though Poe was careful about these matters 
as part of his art, it is easy to see that his interest in 
his stories was the interest of the mind in its own 
operations and in the triumph of its alertness and 
acuteness over the problems proposed for its solu- 
tion. His main purpose was to create in Dupin a 
character who should embody in its highest degree 
the power of the human intellect to proceed from the 
slightest clues and the “faintest prominences above 
the plane of the ordinary,” to use his own phrase, to 
the penetration of the most remote and baffling mys- 
tery. “The Murders in the Rue Morgue” he re- 
garded merely as a character study, and “Marie 
Roget ” as an indication of the manner in which his 
own methods might be applied, not only to a ficti- 
tious set of circumstances carefully arranged to yield 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


to the pressure of the key for which the lock had been 
constructed, but to an actual case that had occurred 
in New York and in which the mystery had re- 
mained unsolved. The story is somewhat of a 
disappointment as fiction since it fails of a de- 
nouement. Poe’s interest went no further than the 
discovery of the essential clue, after which he is con- 
tent to dismiss the subject with a few remarks on the 
coincidences in the two cases and on the nature of 
chance in general. The ordinary reader, however, 
cannot be expected to be of a complexion so purely 
philosophical, and he may be pardoned for a feeling 
of slight vexation when, at the end of the story, he 
finds himself deprived of the privilege of being in 
at the death. 

But no such fault can be found with “ The Pur- 
loined Letter.” This is the masterpiece of the series, 
regarded simply as fiction. It is less an essay in in- 
ductive analysis and more of a story than either of 
the others. It has, indeed, and with reason, been 
called the best detective story ever written. The 
mystification at the outset is complete, yet the solu- 


INTRODUCTION 


xi 


tion is reached by means that are really startling in 
their ease, simplicity and naturalness. This is where 
Poe triumphs. He never has recourse to artifice or 
to strained hypotheses. When all is over, one follows 
easily the different steps by which the result has been 
arrived at, and does not question the logic or the 
legitimacy of the methods pursued. There is no 
appeal to the sensational nor is there any dazzling of 
the imagination by bizarre tours de force that make 
the reader lose himself in the writer’s ingenuity and 
inventiveness and forget to ask if what he has wit- 
nessed be actually within the range of human per- 
formance. 

Since Poe the detective story has had many vicis- 
situdes. Gaboriau developed its sensational and mel- 
odramatic features and gave the model for countless 
imitators. Stevenson had a fondness for Gaboriau, 
but burlesqued his method in “The Story of the 
Young Man in Holy Orders,” which forms part of 
the “ New Arabian Nights.” The burlesque was 
not sufficiently severe to kill the form as “ Don Quix- 
ote” killed the vogue of the romances of chivalry, 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


xii 

but it may, at least, have had the effect of sending 
Dr. Doyle back to Poe rather than to Gaboriau for 
his model. Hence Sherlock Holmes is the reincar- 
nation of M. Dupin, the brilliant amateur, rather 
than of Lecoq, the professional detective. Dupin, 
to be sure, is, more than Holmes, the embodiment of 
pure intellect. For this reason he lacks Holmes’s 
interest as a character, although Poe, with his curi- 
ous power of investing abstractions with personality, 
makes him a singularly effective figure. On the 
other hand, and perhaps because this very human 
interest requires it, Holmes is less infallible as an 
instrument of sheer ratiocinative power. He is occa- 
sionally thrown off the scent as Dupin never is, and 
is sometimes obliged to have recourse to those expedi- 
ents of professional detection which Dupin never 
employs. 

Poe has been a factor of singular importance in the 
artistic and literary history of the nineteenth century. 
It is surprising how a writer who, from an American 
point of view, represents little beyond the discovery, 


INTRODUCTION 


xiii 

almost childlike in its eager intensity, of the very 
material of romance so long denied it by isolation and 
by the newness and practicality of its own environ- 
ment, should have contributed so extensively to move- 
ments of which he himself could have had no concep- 
tion. For France, Poe ranks w T ith Hugo as the fruc- 
tifying genius of modern movements, and symbolism, 
mysticism, occultism, and the art of the decadence, 
all owe to him more than will ever be realized, until 
the history of our age has been completely written a 
hundred years hence. Compared with this larger 
indebtedness of the whole of the art of our time to 
Poe’s genius, the fact of his having originated the 
form of the detective story seems a matter of rela- 
tively slight significance. Yet the persistence of the 
form throughout a century, and the vitality which it 
still exhibits in our own day, prove its right to be 
regarded as one of the types of modern literature, 
like the sea story or the novel of manners. It trans- 
forms one phase of our complex social life, a phase in 
itself sufficiently sordid, into the material for ro- 
mance. But perhaps its prime importance is not as 


XIV 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


a distinct type standing alone and tending to degen- 
erate on the one hand into mere ingenuity and on 
the other into crude sensationalism, but a factor in 
the development of the novel of Dickens and his 
school, wherein the highly developed intrigue or 
plot involving elements of crime, mystery and detec- 
tion, bears clear evidence of the influence exercised 
by Poe upon the matter and method of modern 
fiction. 


W. A. B. 


THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE 






THE 

MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE 


What song the Sirens sang , or what name Achilles as- 
sumed when he hid himself among women , although 'puz- 
zling questions , are not beyond all conjecture. 

SIR THOMAS BROWNE : Um-Burial. 

The mental features discoursed of as the analyti- 
cal are, in themselves, but little susceptible of analy- 
sis. We appreciate them only in their effects. We 
know of them, among other things, that they are al- 
ways to their possessor, when inordinately possessed, 
a source of the liveliest enjoyment. As the strong 
man exults in his physical ability, delighting in such 
exercises as call his muscles into action, so glories the 
analyst in that moral activity which disentangles. 
He derives pleasure from even the most trivial occu- 
pations bringing his talent into play. He is fond of 
enigmas, of conundrums, of hieroglyphics; exhibiting 


6 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

in his solutions of each a degree of acumen which 
appears to the ordinary apprehension preternatural. 
His results, brought about by the very soul and 
essence of method, have, in truth, the whole air of 
intuition. 

The faculty of re-solution is possibly much invig- 
ourated by mathematical study, and especially by 
that highest branch of it, which, unjustly and merely 
on account of its retrograde operations, has been 
called, as if par excellence , analysis. Yet to calculate is 
not in itself to analyse. A chess-player, for example, 
does the one, without effort at the other. It follows 
that the game of chess, in its effects upon mental char- 
acter, is greatly misunderstood. I am not now wri- 
ting a treatise, but simply prefacing a somewhat pecu- 
liar narrative by observations very much at random ; 
I will, therefore, take occasion to assert that the higher 
powers of the reflective intellect are more decidedly 
and more usefully tasked by the unostentatious game 
of draughts than by all the elaborate frivolity of chess. 
In this latter, where the pieces have different and bi- 
zarre motions, with various and variable values, what 


THE RUE MORGUE 


7 


is only complex is mistaken (a not unusual error) for 
what is profound. The attention is here called pow- 
erfully into play. If it flag for an instant, an over- 
sight is committed, resulting in injury or defeat. The 
possible moves being not only manifold, but involute, 
the chances of such oversights are multiplied; and, in 
nine cases out of ten, it is the more concentrative 
rather than the more acute player who conquers. In 
draughts, on the contrary, where the moves are unique 
and have but little variation, the probabilities of inad- 
vertence are diminished, and the mere attention being 
left comparatively unemployed, what advantages are 
obtained by either party are obtained by superior 
acumen. To be less abstract : Let us suppose a game 
of draughts where the pieces are reduced to four kings, 
and where, of course, no oversight is to be expected. 
It is obvious that here the victory can be decided (the 
players being at all equal) only by some recherche 
movement, the result of some strong exertion of the 
intellect. Deprived of ordinary resources, the ana- 
lyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent, 
identifies himself therewith, and not infrequently sees 


8 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


thus, at a glance, the sole methods (sometimes indeed 
absurdly simple ones) by which he may seduce into 
error or hurry into miscalculation. 

Whist has long been known for its influence upon 
what is termed the calculating power; and men of the 
highest order of intellect have been known to take an 
apparently unaccountable delight in it, while eschew- 
ing chess as frivolous. Beyond doubt there is noth- 
ing of a similar nature so greatly tasking the faculty 
of analysis. The best chess-player in Christendom 
may be little more than the best player of chess ; but 
proficiency in whist implies capacity for success in all 
these more important undertakings where mind strug- 
gles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that 
perfection in the game which includes a comprehen- 
sion of all the sources whence legitimate advantage 
may be derived. These are not only manifold, but 
multiform, and lie frequently among recesses, of 
thought altogether inaccessible to the ordinary under- 
standing. To observe attentively is to remember dis- 
tinctly; and, so far, the concentrative chess-player 
will do very well at whist; while the rules of Hoyle 


THE RUE MORGUE 9 

(themselves based upon the mere mechanism of the 
game) are sufficiently and generally comprehensible. 
Thus, to have a retentive memory and to proceed by 
“the book,” are points commonly regarded as the 
sum total of good playing. But it is in matters be- 
yond the limits of mere rule that the skill of the ana- 
lyst is evinced. He makes, in silence, a host of obser- 
vations and inferences. So, perhaps, do his com- 
panions ; and the difference in the extent of the infor- 
mation obtained, lies not so much in the validity of 
the inference as in the quality of the observation. The 
necessary knowledge is that of what to observe. Our 
player confines himself not at all; nor, because the 
game is the object, does he reject deductions from 
things external to the game. He examines the coun- 
tenance of his partner, comparing it carefully with 
that of each of his opponents. He considers the mode 
of assorting the cards in each hand; often counting 
trump by trump, and honour by honour, through the 
glances bestowed by their holders upon each. He 
notes every variation of face as the play progresses, 
gathering a fund of thought from the diffi on< es i 


10 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the expression of certainty, of surprise, of triumph, or 
chagrin. From the manner of gathering up a trick 
he judges whether the person taking it, can make 
another in the suit. He recognizes what is played 
through feint, by the manner with which it is thrown 
upon the table. A casual or inadvertent word; the 
accidental dropping or turning of a card, with the ac- 
companying anxiety or carelessness in regard to its 
concealment; the counting of the tricks, with the or- 
der of their arrangement; embarrassment, hesitation, 
eagerness, or trepidation — all afford, to his appar- 
ently intuitive perception, indications of the true 
state of affairs. The first two or three rounds having 
been played, he is in full possession of the contents of 
each hand, and thenceforward puts down his cards 
with as absolute a precision of purpose as if the rest 
of the party had turned outward the faces of their 
own. 

The analytical power should not be confounded 
with simple ingenuity; for while the analyst is neces- 
sarily ingenious, the ingenious man is often remark- 
ably incapable of analysis. The constructive or com- 


THE RUE MORGUE 


11 


bining power, by which ingenuity is usually mani- 
fested, and to which the phrenologists (I believe er- 
roneously) have assigned a separate organ, supposing 
it a primitive faculty, has been so frequently seen in 
those whose intellect bordered otherwise upon idiocy, 
as to have attracted general observation among 
writers on morals. Between ingenuity and the ana- 
lytic ability there exists a difference far greater, in- 
deed, than that between the fancy and the imagina- 
tion, but of a character very strictly analogous. It 
will be found, in fact, that the ingenious are always 
fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise 
than analytic. 

The narrative which follows will appear to the 
reader somewhat in the light of commentary upon 
the propositions just advanced. 

Residing in Paris during the spring and part of the 
summer of 18 — , I there became acquainted with a 
Monsieur C. Auguste Dupin. This young gentle- 
man was of an excellent — indeed of an illustrious fam- 
ily, but, by a variety of untoward events, had been re- 
duced to such poverty that the energy of his char- 


/ 


12 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

acter succumbed beneath it, and he ceased to bestir 
himself in the world, or to care for the retrieval of his 
fortunes. By courtesy of his creditors, there still re- 
mained in his possession a small remnant of his pat- 
rimony; and upon the income arising from this he 
managed, by means of a rigorous economy, to pro- 
cure the necessaries of life, without troubling himself 
about its superfluities. Books, indeed, were his sole 
luxuries, and in Paris these are easily obtained. 

Our first meeting was at an obscure library in the 
Rue Montmartre, where the accident of our both be- 
ing in search of the same very rare and very remark- 
able volume, brought us into closer communion. We 
saw each other again and again. I was deeply inter- 
ested in the little family history which he detailed to 
me with all that candour which a Frenchman indulges 
whenever mere self is the theme. I was astonished, 
too, at the vast extent of his reading; and, above all, 
I felt my soul enkindled within me by the wild fervour 
and the vivid freshness of his imagination. Seeking 
in Paris the objects I then sought, I felt that the so- 
ciety of such a man would be to me a treasure beyond 


THE RUE MORGUE 


13 


price; and this feeling I frankly confided to him. It 
was at length arranged that we should live together 
during my stay in the city; and as my worldly circum- 
stances were somewhat less embarrassed than his 
own, I was permitted to be at the expense of renting 
and furnishing in a style which suited the rather fan- 
tastic gloom of our common temper, a time-eaten and 
grotesque mansion, long deserted through supersti- 
tions into which we did not inquire, and tottering to 
its fall in a retired and desolate portion of the Fau- 
bourg St. Germain. 

Had the routine of our life at this place been known 
to the world, we should have been regarded as mad- 
men — although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless 
nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted 
no visitors. Indeed, the locality of our retirement 
had been carefully kept a secret from my own former 
associates ; and it had been many years since Dupin 
had ceased to know or be known in Paris. We existed 
within ourselves alone. 

It was a freak of fancy in my friend (for what else 
shall I call it ?) to be enamoured of the night for her 


14 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

own sake; and into this bizarrerie, as into all his oth- 
ers, I quietly fell ; giving myself up to his wild whims 
with a perfect abandon. The sable divinity would 
not herself dwell with us always ; but we could coun- 
terfeit her presence. At the first dawn of the mor- 
ning we closed all the massy shutters of our old 
building and lighted a couple of tapers which, strongly 
perfumed, threw out only the ghastliest and feeblest 
of rays. By the aid of these we then busied our souls 
in dreams — reading, writing, or conversing, until 
warned by the clock of the advent of the true Dark- 
ness. Then we sallied forth into the streets, arm in 
arm, continuing the topics of the day, or roaming far 
and wide until a late hour, seeking, amid the wild 
lights and shadows of the populous city, that infinity 
of mental excitement which quiet observation can 
afford. 

At such times I could not help remarking and ad- 
miring (although from his rich ideality I had been 
prepared to expect it) a peculiar analytic ability in 
Dupin. He seemed, too, to take an eager delight in 
its exercise — if not exactly in its display — and did not 


THE RUE MORGUE 


15 


hesitate to confess the pleasure thus derived. He 
boasted to me, with a low, chuckling laugh, .that most 
men, in respect to himself, wore windows in their bos- 
oms, and was wont to follow up such assertions by 
direct and very startling proofs of his intimate knowl- 
edge of my own. His manner at these moments was 
frigid and abstract; his eyes were vacant in expres- 
sion ; while his voice, usually a rich tenor, rose into a 
treble which would have sounded petulantly but for 
the deliberateness and entire distinctness of the enun- 
ciation. Observing him in these moods, I often 
dwelt meditatively upon the old philosophy of the 
Bi-Part Soul, and amused myself with the fancy of a 
double Dupin — the creative and the resolvent. 

Let it not be supposed, from what I have just said, 
that I am detailing any mystery, or penning any ro- 
mance. What I have described in the Frenchman 
was merely the result of an excited, or perhaps of a 
diseased, intelligence. But of the character of his 
remarks at the periods in question an example will 
best convey the idea. 

We were strolling one night down a long dirty 


16 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


street, in the vicinity of the Palais Royal. Being 
both, apparently, occupied with thought, neither of 
us had spoken a syllable for fifteen minutes at least. 
All at once Dupin broke forth with these words : 

“ He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would 
do better for the Theatre des V arietes .” 

“There can be no doubt of that,” I replied, unwit- 
tingly, and not at first observing (so much had I been 
absorbed in reflection) the extraordinary manner in 
which the speaker had chimed in with my medita- 
tions. In an instant afterward I recollected myself, 
and my astonishment was profound. 

“ Dupin,” said I, gravely, “ this is beyond my com- 
prehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am 
amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses. How 
was it possible you should know I was thinking 
of — ?” Here I paused, to ascertain beyond a 
doubt whether he really knew of whom I thought. 

“ — of Chantilly,” said he, “ why do you pause ? 
You were remarking to yourself that his diminutive 
figure unfitted him for tragedy.” 

This was precisely what had formed the subject of 


THE RUE MORGUE 


17 


my reflections. Chantilly was a quondam cobbler of 
the Rue St. Denis, who, becoming stage-mad, had 
attempted the Me of Xerxes, in C rebillon’s tragedy 
so called, and been notoriously pasquinaded for his 
pains. 

“Tell me, for Heaven’s sake,” I exclaimed, “the 
method — if method there is — by which you have 
been enabled to fathom my soul in this matter.” In 
fact, I was even more startled than I would have been 
willing to express. 

“ It was the fruiterer,” replied my friend, “ who 
brought you to the conclusion that the mender of 
soles was not of sufficient height for Xerxes et id 
genus omne .” 

“ The fruiterer ! — you astonish me — I know no 
fruiterer whomsoever.” 

“ The man who ran up against you as we entered 
the street — it may have been fifteen minutes ago.” 

I now remembered that, in fact, a fruiterer, carry- 
ing upon his head a large basket of apples, had 
nearly thrown me down, by accident, as we passed 
from the Rue C — into the thoroughfare where we 


18 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


stood; but what this had to do with Chantilly I 
could not possibly understand. 

There was not a particle of charlatanerie about Du- 
pin. “I will explain,” he said, “and that you may 
comprehend all clearly, we will first retrace the course 
of your meditations, from the moment in which I 
spoke to you until that of the rencontre with the frui- 
terer in question. The larger links of the chain run 
thus — Chantilly, Orion, Dr. Nichols, Epicurus, 
Stereotomy, the street stones, the fruiterer.” 

There are few persons who have not, at some pe- 
riod of their lives amused themselves in retracing 
their steps by which particular conclusions of their 
own minds have been attained. The occupation is 
often full of interest; and he who attempts it for the 
first time is astonished by the apparently illimitable 
distance and incoherence between the starting point 
and the goal. What, then, must have been my 
amazement, when I heard the Frenchman speak 
what he had just spoken, and when I could not help 
acknowledging he had spoken the truth. He con- 
tinued : 


THE RUE MORGUE 


19 


“We had been talking of horses, if I remember 
aright, just before leaving the Rue C — . This was 
the last subject we discussed. As we crossed into 
this street, a fruiterer, with a large basket upon his 
head, brushing quickly past us, thrust you upon a pile 
of paving-stones collected at a spot where the cause- 
way is undergoing repair. You stepped upon one of 
the loose fragments, slipped, slightly strained your 
ankle, appeared vexed or sulky, muttered a few words, 
turned to look at the pile, and then proceeded in si- 
lence. I was not particularly attentive to what you 
did ; but observation has become to me of late, a spe- 
cies of necessity. 

“ You kept your eyes upon the ground — glancing, 
with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in 
the pavement, (so that I saw you were still thinking 
of the stones), until we reached the little alley called 
Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of experi- 
ment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here 
your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving 
your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured 
the word ‘ stereotomy,’ a term very affectedly applied 


20 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


to this species of pavement. I knew that you could 
not say to yourself ‘ stereotomy’ without being brought 
to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epi- 
curus; and since, when we discussed this subject not 
very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yet 
with how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble 
Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular 
cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting 
your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and I 
certainly expected that you would do so. You did 
look up, and I was now assured that I had correctly 
followed your steps. But in that bitter tirade upon 
Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday’s Musee, the 
satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the 
cobbler’s change of name upon assuming the buskin, 
quoted a Latin line about which we have often con- 
versed. I mean the line 

Perdidit antiquum liter a prima sonum. 

I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, 
formerly written Urion; and, from certain pungen- 
cies connected with this explanation, I was aware that 
you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, there- 


THE RUE MORGUE 21 

fore, that you would not fail to combine the two ideas 
of Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them 
I saw by the character of the smile which passed over 
your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler’s immo- 
lation. So far, you had been stooping in your gait ; 
but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full 
height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the 
diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I inter- 
rupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, 
he was a very little fellow — that Chantilly — he would 
do better at the Theatre des Varietes.” 

Not long after this, we were looking over an evening 
edition of the Gazette des Tribunaux, when the follow- 
ing paragraphs arrested our attention. 

“Extraordinary Murders. — This morning, 
about three o’clock, the inhabitants of the Quartier 
St. Roch were aroused from sleep by a succession of 
terrific shrieks, issuing, apparently, from the fourth 
story of a house in the Rue Morgue, known to be in 
the sole occupancy of one Madame L’Espanaye, and 
her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille L’Espanaye. 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


After some delay, occasioned by a fruitless attempt to 
procure admission in the usual manner, the gateway 
was broken in with a crowbar, and eight or ten of the 
neighbours entered, accompanied by two gendarmes. 
By this time the cries had ceased ; but, as the parties 
rushed up the first flight of stairs, two or more rough 
voices, in angry contention, were distinguished, and 
seemed to proceed from the upper part of the house. 
As the second landing was reached, these sounds 
also, had ceased, and everything remained perfectly 
quiet. The party spread themselves, and hurried 
from room to room. Upon arriving at a large back 
chamber in the fourth story (the door of which, being 
found locked, with the key inside, was forced open), 
a spectacle presented itself which struck every one 
present not less with horror than with astonishment. 

“ The apartment was in the wildest disorder — the 
furniture broken and thrown about in all directions. 
There was only one bedstead; and from this the bed 
had been removed, and thrown into the middle of the 
floor. On a chair lay a razor, besmeared with blood. 
On the hearth were two or three long and thick 



“a spectacle presented itself which struck every 

ONE PRESENT NOT LESS WITH HORROR THAN WITH 
ASTONISHMENT” 








THE RUE MORGUE 28 

tresses of gray human hair, also dabbled in blood, and 
seeming to have been pulled out by the roots. Upon 
the floor were found four Napoleons, an ear-ring of 
topaz, three large silver spoons, three smaller of metal 
d’ Alger, and two bags, containing nearly four thou- 
sand francs in gold. The drawers of a bureau, which 
stood in one corner, were open, and had been, appar- 
ently, rifled, although many articles still remained in 
them. A small iron safe was discovered under the 
bed (not under the bedstead). It was open, with the 
key still in the door. It had no contents beyond a 
few old letters, and other papers of little consequence. 

“Of Madame L’Espanaye no traces were here 
seen ; but an unusual quantity of soot being observed 
in the fire-place, a search was made in the chimney, 
and (horrible to relate!) the corpse of the daughter, 
head downward, was dragged therefrom; it having 
been thus forced up the narrow aperture for a con- 
siderable distance. The body was quite warm. Up- 
on examining it, many excoriations were perceived, 
no doubt occasioned by the violence with which it 
had been thrust up and disengaged. Upon the face 


24 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

were many severe scratches, and, upon the throat, 

dark bruises, and deep indentations of finger 

nails, as if the deceased had been throttled to 

death. 

• “ After a thorough investigation of every portion of 
the house, without farther discovery, the party made 
its way into a small paved yard in the rear of the build- 
ing, where lay the corpse of the old lady, with her 
throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise 
her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, 
was fearfully mutilated — the former so much so as 
scarcely to retain any semblance of humanity. 

“To this horrible mystery there is not as yet, we 
believe, the slightest clue.” 

The next day’s paper had these additional partic- 
ulars : 

“ The Tragedy in the Rue Morgue. Many individ- 
uals have been examined in relation to this most ex- 
traordinary and frightful affair” [the word 4 affaire ’ 
has not yet, in France, that levity of import which 
it conveys with us], “but nothing whatever has 


THE RUE MORGUE 25 

transpired to throw light upon it. We give below 
all the material testimony elicited. 

“ Pauline Dubourg , laundress, deposes that she has 
known both the deceased for three years, having 
washed for them during that period. The old lady 
and her daughter seemed on good terms — very affec- 
tionate towards each other. They were excellent 
pay. Could not speak in regard to their mode or 
means of living. Believed that Madame L. told for- 
tunes for a living. Was reputed to have money put 
by. Never met any person in the house when she 
called for her clothes or took them home. Was sure 
that they had no servant in employ. There appeared 
to be no furniture in any part of the building except 
in the fourth story. 

“Pierre Moreau , tobacconist, deposes that he has 
been in the habit of selling small quantities of tobacco 
and snuff to Madame L’Espanaye for nearly four 
years. Was born in the neighbourhood, and has al- 
ways resided there. The deceased and her daughter 
had occupied the house in which the corpses were 
found, for more than six years. It was formerly 


26 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


occupied by a jeweller, who under-let the upper rooms 
to various persons. The house was the property of 
Madame L. She became dissatisfied with the abuse 
of the premises by her tenant, and moved into them 
herself, refusing to let any portion. The old lady 
was childish. Witness had seen the daughter some 
five or six times during the six years. The two lived 
an exceedingly retired life — were reputed to have 
money. Had heard it said among the neighbours that 
Madame L. told fortunes — did not believe it. Had 
never seen any person enter the door except the old 
lady and her daughter, a porter once or twice, and a 
physician some eight or ten times. 

“Many other persons, neighbours, gave evidence 
to the same effect.' No one was spoken of as fre- 
quenting the house. It was not known whether 
there were any living connections of Madame L. and 
her daughter. The shutters of the front windows 
were seldom opened. Those in the rear were always 
closed, with the exception of the large back room, 
fourth story. The house was a good house — not very 
old. 


THE RUE MORGUE 


27 


“ Isidore Mustt , gendarme, deposes that he was 
called to the house about three o’clock in the mor- 
ning, and found some twenty or thirty persons at the 
gateway, endeavouring to gain admittance. Forced 
it open, at length, with a bayonet — not with a crow- 
bar. Had but little difficulty in getting it open, on 
account of its being a double or folding gate, and bolt- 
ed neither at bottom nor top. The shrieks were con- 
tinued until the gate was forced — and then suddenly 
ceased. They seemed to be screams of some per- 
son (or persons) in great agony — were loud and drawn 
out, not short and quick. Witness led the way up- 
stairs. Upon reaching the first landing, heard 
two voices in loud and angry contention: the one a 
gruff voice, the other much shriller — a very strange 
voice. Could distinguish some words of the former, 
which was that of a Frenchman. Was positive that 
it was not a woman’s voice. Could distinguish the 
words ‘ sacre’ and ‘ diable .’ The shrill voice was 
that of a foreigner. Could not be sure whether it 
was the voice of a man or of a woman. Could not 
make out what was said, but believed the language to 


28 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


be Spanish. The state of the room and of the bodies 
was described by this witness as we described them 
yesterday. 

“ Henri Duval , a neighbour, and by trade a silver- 
smith, deposes that he was one of the party who first 
entered the house. Corroborates the testimony of 
Muset in general. As soon as they found an en- 
trance, they re-closed the door, to keep out the crowd, 
which collected very fast, notwithstanding the late- 
ness of the hour. The shrill voice, this witness thinks, 
was that of an Italian. Was certain it was not 
French. Could not be sure that it was a man’s voice. 
It might have been a woman’s. Was not acquainted 
with the Italian language. Could not distinguish the 
words, but was convinced by the intonation, that the 
speaker was an Italian. Knew Madame L. and her 
daughter. Had conversed with both frequently. 
Was sure that the shrill voice was not that of either of 
the deceased. 

“ — Odenheimer, restaurateur. This witness vol- 
unteered his testimony. Not speaking French, was 
examined through an interpreter. Is a native of 


THE RUE MORGUE 


29 

Amsterdam. Was passing the house at the time of 
the shrieks. They lasted for several minutes — prob- 
ably ten. They were long and loud — very awful and 
distressing. Was one of those who entered the build- 
ing. Corroborated the previous evidence in every 
respect but one. Was sure that the shrill voice was 
that of a man — of a Frenchman. Could not distin- 
guish the words uttered. They were loud and quick 
— unequal — spoken apparently in fear as well as in 
anger. The voice was harsh — not so much shrill as 
harsh. Could not call it a shrill voice. The gruff 
voice said repeatedly , 4 sacre ,’ 4 diable,’ and once 4 mon 
Dieu * 

44 Jules Mignaudy banker, of the firm of Mignaud 
et Fils, Rue Deloraine. Is the elder Mignaud. Ma- 
dame L’Espanaye had some property. Had opened 
an account with his banking house in the spring of 
the year — (eight years previously). Made frequent 
deposits in small sums. Had checked for nothing 
until the third day before her death, when she took 
out in person the sum of 4,000 francs. This sum was 
paid in gold, and a clerk sent home with the money. 


30 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ Adolphe Le Bon , clerk to Mignaud et Fils, de- 
poses that on the day in question, about noon, he 
accompanied Madame L’Espanaye to her resi- 
dence with the 4,000 francs, put up in two bags. 
Upon the door being opened, Mademoiselle L. 
appeared and took from his hands one of the bags, 
while the old lady relieved him of the other. He then 
bowed and departed. Did not see any person in the 
street at the time. It is a by-street — very lonely. 

“ William Bird , tailor, deposes that he was one of 
the party who entered the house. Is an Englishman. 
Has lived in Paris two years. Was one of the first to 
ascend the stairs. Heard the voices in contention. 
The gruff voice was that of a Frenchman. Could 
make out several words, but cannot now remember 
all. Heard distinctly ( sacre 9 and ‘ mon Dieu 9 There 
was a sound at the moment as if of several persons 
struggling — a scraping and scuffling sound. The 
shrill voice was very loud — louder than the gruff one. 
Is sure that it was not the voice of an Englishman. 
Appeared to be that of a German. Might have been 
a woman’s voice. Does not understand German. 


THE RUE MORGUE 


31 


“Four of the above named witnesses being re- 
called, deposed that the door of the chamber in 
which was found the body of Mademoiselle L. was 
locked on the inside when the party reached it. 
Everything was perfectly silent — no groans or noises 
of any kind. Upon forcing the door no person was 
seen. The windows, both of the back and front 
rooms, were down and firmly fastened from within. 
A door between the two rooms was closed, but not 
locked. The door leading from the front room into 
the passage was locked, with the key on the inside. 
A small room in the front of the house, on the fourth 
story, at the head of the passage, was open, the door 
being ajar. This room was crowded with old beds, 
boxes, and so forth. These were carefully removed 
and searched. There was not an inch of any portion 
of the house which was not carefully searched. 
Sweeps were sent up and down the chimneys. The 
house was a four-story one, with garrets (mansardes). 
A trap-door on the roof was nailed down very 
securely — did not appear to have been opened for 
years. The time elapsing between the hearing of 


32 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the voices in contention and the breaking open of 
the room door, was variously stated by the wit- 
nesses. Some made it as short as three minutes — 
some as long as five. The door was opened with 
difficulty. 

“ Alfonzo Garcio , undertaker, deposes that he re- 
sides in the Rue Morgue. Is a native of Spain. Was 
one of the party who entered the house. Did not pro- 
ceed up-stairs. Is nervous, and was apprehensive of 
the consequences of agitation. Heard the voices in 
contention. The gruff voice was that of a French- 
man. Could not distinguish what was said. The 
shrill voice was that of an Englishman — is sure of 
this. Does not understand the English language, 
but judges by the intonation. 

“Alberte Montani, confectioner, deposes that he was 
among the first to ascend the stairs. Heard the 
voices in question. The gruff voice was that of a 
Frenchman. Distinguished several words. The 
speaker appeared to be expostulating. Could not 
make out the words of the shrill voice. Spoke quick 
and unevenly. Thinks it the voice of a Russian. 


THE RUE MORGUE 


33 


Corroborates the general testimony. Is an Italian. 
Never conversed with a native of Russia. 

“ Several witnesses recalled, here testified that the 
chimneys of all the rooms on the fourth story were too 
narrow to admit the passage of a human being. By 
‘sweeps’ were meant cylindrical sweeping-brushes, 
such as are employed by those who clean chimneys. 
These brushes were passed up and down every flue 
in the house. There is no back passage by which any 
one could have descended while the party proceeded 
up-stairs. The body of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye 
was so firmly wedged in the chimney that it could not 
be got down until four or five of the party united their 
strength. 

e< Paul Dumas , physician, deposes that he called to 
view the bodies about daybreak. They were both 
then lying on the sacking of the bedstead in the cham- 
ber where Mademoiselle L. was found. The corpse 
of the young lady was much bruised and excoriated. 
The fact that it had been thrust up the chimney 
would sufficiently account for these appearances. 
The throat was greatly chafed. There were several 


34 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


deep scratches just below the chin, together with a 
series of livid spots which were evidently the im- 
pression of fingers. The face was fearfully dis- 
coloured and the eye-balls protruded. The tongue 
had been partially bitten through. A large bruise 
was discovered upon the pit of the stomach, pro- 
duced, apparently, by the pressure of a knee. In 
the opinion of M. Dumas, Mademoiselle L’Espanaye 
had been throttled to death by some person or 
persons unknown. The corpse of the mother was 
horribly mutilated. All the bones of the right leg 
and arm were more or less shattered. The left tibia 
much splintered, as well as all the ribs of the left 
side. Whole body dreadfully bruised and dis- 
coloured. It was not possible to say how the injuries 
had been inflicted. A heavy club of wood, or a broad 
bar of iron — a chair — any large, heavy, and obtuse 
weapon would have produced such results, if wielded 
by the hands of a very powerful man. No woman 
could have inflicted the blows with any weapon. 
The head of the deceased, when seen by witness, 
was entirely separated from the body, and was also 


THE RUE MORGUE 


35 


greatly shattered. The throat had evidently been 
cut with some very sharp instrument — probably 
with a razor. 

“ Alexandre Etienne , surgeon, was called with M. 
Dumas to view the bodies. Corroborated the testi- 
mony, and the opinions of M. Dumas. 

“Nothing further of importance was elicited, al- 
though several other persons were examined. A mur- 
der so mysterious, and so perplexing in all its partic- 
ulars, was never before committed in Paris — if 
indeed a murder has been committed at all. The 
police are entirely at fault — an unusual occurrence 
in affairs of this nature. There is not, however, the 
shadow of a clue apparent.” 

The evening edition of the paper stated that the 
greatest excitement still continued in the Quartier St. 
Roch — that the premises in question had been care- 
fully researched, and fresh examinations of witnesses 
instituted, but all to no purpose. A postscript, 
however, mentioned that Adolphe Le Bon had 
been arrested and imprisoned — although nothing 


36 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


appeared to criminate him beyond the facts already 
detailed. 

Dupin seemed singularly interested in the progress 
of this alfair — at least so I judged from his manner, 
for he made no comments. It was only after the an- 
nouncement that Le Bon had been imprisoned, that 
he asked me my opinion respecting the murders. 

I could merely agree with all Paris in considering 
them an insoluble mystery. I saw no means by 
which it would be possible to trace the murderer. 

“We must not judge of the means,” said Dupin, 
“ by this shell of an examination. The Parisian po- 
lice, so much extolled for acumen, are cunning, but 
no more. There is no method in their proceedings, 
beyond the method of the moment. They make a 
vast parade of measures ; but, not unfrequently, these 
are so ill adapted to the objects proposed, as to put us 
in mind of Monsieur Jourdain’s calling for his robe- 
de-chambre — pour mieux entendre la musique. The 
results obtained by them are not unfrequently sur- 
prising, but, for the most part, are brought about by 
simple diligence and activity. When these qualities 


THE RUE MORGUE 


37 


are unavailing, their schemes fail. Vidocq, for ex- 
ample, was a good guesser and a persevering man. 
But, without educated thought, he erred continually 
by the very intensity at his investigations. He im- 
paired his vision by holding the object too close. He 
might see, perhaps, one or two points with unusual 
clearness, but in so doing he, necessarily, lost sight of 
the matter as a whole. Thus there is such a thing as 
being too profound. Truth is not always in a well. 
In fact, as regards the more important knowledge, I 
do believe that she is invariably superficial. The 
depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not 
upon the mountain-tops where she is found. The 
modes and sources of this kind of error are well typi- 
fied in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies. To 
look at a star by glances — to view it in a sidelong 
way, by turning toward it the exterior portions of the 
retina (more susceptible of feeble impressions of light 
than the interior), is to behold the star distinctly — is 
to have the best appreciation of its lustre: a lustre 
which grows dim just in proportion as we turn our 
vision fully upon it. A greater number of rays 


38 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


actually fall upon the eye in the latter case, but, in 
the former, there is the more refined capacity for 
comprehension. By undue profundity we perplex 
and enfeeble thought; and it is possible to make 
even Venus herself vanish from the firmament by a 
scrutiny too sustained, too concentrated, or too 
direct. 

“ As for these murders, let us enter into some exam- 
inations for ourselves, before we make up an opinion 
respecting them. An inquiry will afford us amuse- 
ment ” [I thought this an odd term, so applied, but 
said nothing], “and besides, Le Bon once rendered 
me a service for which I am not ungrateful. We will 
go and see the premises with our own eyes. I know 
G — , the Prefect of Police, and shall have no diffi- 
culty in obtaining the necessary permission.” 

The permission was obtained, and we proceeded 
at once to the Rue Morgue. This is one of those 
miserable thoroughfares which intervene between the 
Rue Richelieu and the Rue St. Roch. It was late in 
the afternoon when we reached it, as this quarter is at 
a great distance from that in which we resided. The 


THE RUE MORGUE 


house was readily found; for there still were many 
persons gazing up at the closed shutters, with an ob- 
jectless curiosity, from the opposite side of the way. 
It was an ordinary Parisian house, with a gateway, 
on one side of which was a glazed watch-box, with a 
sliding panel in the window, indicating a loge de con- 
cierge. Before going in we walked up the street, 
turned down an alley, and then, again turning, passed 
in the rear of the building — Dupin, meanwhile, ex- 
amining the whole neighbourhood, as well as the 
house, with a minuteness of attention for which I 
could see no possible object. 

Retracing our steps, we came again to the front of 
the dwelling, rang, and having shown our credentials, 
were admitted by the agents in charge. We went up- 
stairs — into the chamber where the body of Made- 
moiselle L’Espanaye had been found, and where both 
the deceased still lay. The disorders of the room 
had, as usual, been suffered to exist. I saw nothing 
beyond what had been stated in the Gazette des Tri- 
bunaux. Dupin scrutinized every thing, not ex- 
cepting the bodies of the victims. We then went into 


40 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

the other rooms, and into the yard; a gendarme ac- 
companying us throughout. The examination occu- 
pied us until dark, when we took our departure. On 
our way home my companion stepped in for a mo- 
ment at the office of one of the daily papers. 

I have said that the whims of my friend were mani- 
fold, and that J e les menagais: — for this phrase there 
is no English equivalent. It was his humour, now, 
to decline all conversation on the subject of the mur- 
der, until about noon the next day. He then asked 
me suddenly, if I had observed anything 'peculiar at 
the scene of the atrocity. 

There was something in his manner of emphasiz- 
ing the word “ peculiar/’ which caused me to shudder 
without knowing why. 

“ No, nothing peculiar ,” I said; “ nothing more, at 
least, than we both saw stated in the paper.” 

“The Gazette” he replied, “has not entered, I 
fear, into the unusual horror of the thing. But dis- 
miss the idle opinions of this print. It appears to me 
that this mystery is considered insoluble, for the very 
reason which should cause it to be regarded as easy of 


THE RUE MORGUE 41 

solution — I mean for the outre character of its fea- 
tures. The police are confounded by the seeming 
absence of motive : not for the murder itself, but for 
the atrocity of the murder. They are puzzled, too, 
by the seeming impossibility of reconciling the voices 
heard in contention with the facts that no one was 
discovered up-stairs but the assassinated Mademoi- 
selle L’Espanaye, and that there were no means of 
egress without the notice of the party ascending. 
The wild disorder of the room ; the corpse thrust, with 
the head downward, up the chimney; the frightful 
mutilation of the body of the old lady ; these consider- 
ations, with those just mentioned, and others which I 
need not mention, have sufficed to paralyse the pow- 
ers, by putting completely at fault the boasted acumen 
of the government agents. They have fallen into the 
gross but common error of confounding the unusual 
with the abstruse. But it is by these deviations from 
the plane of the ordinary, that reason feels its way, if 
at all, in its search for the true. In investigations 
such as we are now pursuing, it should not be so much 
asked ‘what has occurred,’ as ‘what has occurred 


42 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

that has never occurred before.’ In fact, the facility 
with which I shall arrive, or have arrived, at the solu- 
tion of this mystery, is in the direct ratio of its appar- 
ent insolubility in the eyes of the police.” 

I stared at the speaker in mute astonishment. 

“ I am now awaiting,” continued he, looking tow- 
ard the door of our apartment — “I am now awaiting 
a person who, although perhaps not the perpetrator 
of these butcheries, must have been in some measure 
implicated in their perpetration. Of the worst por- 
tion of the crimes committed, it is probable that he is 
innocent. I hope that I am right in this supposition ; 
for upon it I build my expectation of reading the en- 
tire riddle. I look for the man here — in this room — 
every moment. It is true that he may not arrive; 
but the probability is that he will. Should he come, 
it will be necessary to detain him. Here are pistols; 
and we both know how to use them when occasion 
demands their use.” 

I took the pistols, scarcely knowing what I did, or 
believing what I heard, while Dupin went on, very 
much as if in a soliloquy. I have already spoken of 


THE RUE MORGUE 43 

his abstract manner at such times. His discourse was 
addressed to myself; but his voice, although by no 
means loud, had that intonation which is commonly 
employed in speaking to some one at a great distance. 
His eyes, vacant in expression, regarded only the 
wall. 

“That the voices heard in contention,” he said, 
“ by the party upon the stairs, were not the voices of 
the women themselves, was fully proved by the evi- 
dence. This relieves us of all doubt upon the ques- 
tion whether the old lady could have first destroyed 
the daughter, and afterward have committed suicide. 
I speak of this point chiefly for the sake of method; 
for the strength of Madame L’Espanaye would have 
been utterly unequal to the task of thrusting her 
daughter’s corpse up the chimney as it was found; 
and the nature of the wounds upon her own person 
entirely precludes the idea of self-destruction. Mur- 
der, then, has been committed by some third party; 
and the voices of this third party were those heard in 
contention. Let me now advert — not to the whole 
testimony respecting these voices — but to what was 


44 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


'peculiar in that testimony. Did you observe any- 
thing peculiar about it ? ” 

I remarked that, while all the witnesses agreed in 
supposing the gruff voice to be that of a Frenchman, 
there was much disagreement in regard to the shrill, 
or, as one individual termed it, the harsh voice. 

“ That was the evidence itself,” said Dupin, “ but 
it was not the peculiarity of the evidence. You have 
observed nothing distinctive. Yet there was some- 
thing to be observed. The witnesses, as you remark, 
agreed about the gruff voice; they were here unani- 
mous. But in regard to the shrill voice, the peculiar- 
ity is — not that they disagreed — but that, while an 
Italian, an Englishman, a Spaniard, a Hollander, and 
a Frenchman attempted to describe it, each one spoke 
of it as that of a foreigner. Each is sure that it was 
not the voice of one of his own countrymen. Each 
likens it — not to the voice of an individual of any na- 
tion with whose language he is conversant — but the 
converse. The Frenchman supposes it the voice of 
a Spaniard, and ‘might have distinguished some 
words had he been acquainted with the Spanish The 


THE RUE MORGUE 45 

Dutchman maintains it to have been that of a French- 
man; but we find it stated that ‘not understanding 
French this witness was examined through an inter- 
preter .’ The Englishman thinks it the voice of a Ger- 
man, and ‘does not understand German .’ The Span- 
iard 4 is sure * that it was that of an Englishman, but 
4 judges by the intonation ’ altogether, 4 as he has no 
knowledge of the English’ The Italian believes it 
the voice of a Russian, but 4 has never conversed with 
a native of Russia .’ A second Frenchman differs, 
moreover, with the first, and is positive that the voice 
was that of an Italian; but, not being cognizant of 
that tongue , is, like the Spaniard , 4 convinced by the 
intonation.’ Now, how strangely unusual must that 
voice have really been, about which such testimony as 
this could have been elicited ! — in whose tones , even, 
denizens of the five great divisions of Europe could 
recognize nothing familiar! You will say that it 
might have been the voice of an Asiatic — of an Afri- 
can. Neither Asiatics nor Africans abound in Paris ; 
but, without denying the inference, I will now merely 
call your attention to three points. The voice is 


46 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


termed by one witness ‘ harsh rather than shrill/ It 
is represented by two others to have been ‘ quick and 
unequal .’ No words — no sounds resembling words 
— were by any witness mentioned as distinguishable. 

“ I know not,” continued Dupin, “ what impres- 
sion I may have made, so far, upon your own under- 
standing ; but I do not hesitate to say that legitimate 
deductions even from this portion of the testimony — 
the portion respecting the gruff and shrill voices — are 
in themselves, sufficient to engender a suspicion which 
should give direction to all farther progress in the 
investigation of the mystery. I said ‘ legitimate de- 
ductions but my meaning is not thus fully expressed. 
I designed to imply that the deductions are the sole 
proper ones, and that the suspicion arises inevitably 
from them as a single result. What the suspicion is, 
however, I will not say just yet. I merely wish you 
to bear in mind that, with myself, it was sufficiently 
forcible to give a definite form, a certain tendency, 
to my inquiries in the chamber. 

“Let us now transport ourselves in fancy to this 
chamber. What shall we first seek here? The 


THE RUE MORGUE 


47 


means of egress employed by the murderers. It is not 
too much to say that neither of us believe in preter- 
natural events. Madame and Mademoiselle L’Es- 
panaye were not destroyed by spirits. The doers of 
the deed were material and escaped materially. Then 
how ? Fortunately there is but one mode of reason- 
ing upon the point, and that mode must lead us to a 
definite decision. — Let us examine, each by each, the 
possible means of egress. It is clear that the assassins 
were in the room where Mademoiselle L’Espanaye 
was found, or at least in the room adjoining, when 
the party ascended the stairs. It is then only from 
these two apartments that we have to seek issues. 
The police have laid bare the floors, the ceiling, and 
the masonry of the walls, in every direction. No 
secret issues could have escaped their vigilance. But, 
not trusting to their eyes, I examined with my own. 
There were, then, no secret issues. Both doors lead- 
ing from the rooms into the passage were securely 
locked, with the keys inside. Let us turn to the chim- 
neys. These, although of ordinary width for some 
eight or ten feet above the hearths, will not admit. 


48 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


throughout their extent, the body of a large cat. The 
impossibility of egress, by means already stated, 
being thus absolute, we are reduced to the windows. 
Through those of the front room no one could have 
escaped without notice from the crowd in the street. 
The murderers must have passed, then, through those 
of the back room. Now, brought to this conclusion 
in so unequivocal a manner as we are, it is not our 
part, as reasoners, to reject it on account of apparent 
impossibilities. It is only left for us to prove that 
these apparent ‘ impossibilities ’ are, in reality, not 
such. 

“ There are two windows in the chamber. One of 
them is unobstructed bv furniture, and is wholly vis- 
ible. The lower portion of the other is hidden from 
view by the head of the unwieldy bedstead which is 
thrust close up against it. The former was found se- 
curely fastened from within. It resisted the utmost 
force of those who endeavoured to raise it. A large 
gimlet hole had been pierced in its frame to the left, 
and a very stout nail was found fitted therein, nearly 
to the head. Upon examining the other window, a 


THE RUE MORGUE 


49 


similar nail was seen similarly fitted in it; and a 
vigourous attempt to raise this sash failed also. The 
police were now entirely satisfied that egress had not 
been in these directions. And, therefore , it was 
thought a matter of supererogation to withdraw the 
nails and open the windows. 

“My own examination was somewhat more par- 
ticular, and was so for the reason I have just given — 
because here it was, I knew, that all apparent impos- 
sibilities must be proved to be not such in reality. 

“ I proceeded to think thus — a posteriori. The 
murderers did escape from one of these windows. 
This being so, they could not have refastened the 
sashes from the inside, as they were found fastened : 
the consideration which put a stop, through its ob- 
viousness to the scrutiny of the police in this quarter. 
Yet the sashes were fastened. They must, then, have 
the power of fastening themselves. There was no es- 
cape from this conclusion. I stepped to the unob- 
structed casement, withdrew the nail with some dif- 
ficulty, and attempted to raise the sash. It resisted 
all my efforts, as I had anticipated. A concealed 


50 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


spring must, I now knew, exist; and this corrobora- 
tion of my idea convinced me that my premises, at 
least, were correct, however mysterious still appeared 
the circumstances attending the nails. A careful 
search soon brought to light the hidden spring. I 
pressed it, and, satisfied with the discovery, forbore to 
upraise the sash. 

“ I now replaced the nail and regarded it attentively. 
A person passing out through this window might 
have reclosed it, and the spring would have caught — 
but the nail could not have been replaced. The 
conclusion was plain, and again narrowed in the 
field of my investigations. The assassins must have 
escaped through the other window. Supposing, 
then, the springs upon each sash to be the same, as 
was probable, there must be found a difference be- 
tween the nails, or at least between the modes of 
their fixture. Getting upon the sacking of the bed- 
stead, I looked over the headboard minutely at the 
second casement. Passing my hand down behind 
the board, I readily discovered and pressed the 
spring, which was, as I had supposed, identical in 


THE RUE MORGUE 51 

character with its neighbour. I now looked at the 
nail. It was as stout as the other, and apparently 
fitted in the same manner — driven in nearly up to the 
head. 

“ You will say that I was puzzled; but, if you think 
so, you must have misunderstood the nature of the 
inductions. To use a sporting phrase, I had not been 
once at ‘fault.’ The scent had never for an instant 
been lost. There was no flaw in any link of the 
chain. I had traced the secret to its ultimate result 
— and that result was the nail. It had, I say, in ev- 
ery respect the appearance of its fellow in the other 
window; but this fact was an absolute nullity (con- 
clusive as it might seem to be) when compared with 
the consideration that here, at this point, terminated 
the clue. ‘ There must be something wrong,’ I said, 
‘about the nail.’ I touched it; and the head, with 
about a quarter of an inch of the shank, came off in 
my fingers. The rest of the shank was in the gimlet 
hole, where it had been broken off. The fracture 
was an old one (for its edges were incrusted with 
rust), and had apparently been accomplished by the 


52 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


blow of a hammer, which had partially imbedded, in 
the top of the bottom sash, the head portion of the 
nail. I now carefully replaced this head portion in 
the indentation whence I had taken it, and the resem- 
blance to a perfect nail was complete — the fissure was 
invisible. Pressing the spring, I gently raised the 
sash for a few inches; the head went up with it, re- 
maining firm in its bed. I closed the window, and 
the semblance of a whole nail was again perfect. 

“ This riddle, so far, was now unriddled. The as- 
sassin had escaped through the window which looked 
upon the bed. Dropping of its own accord upon his 
exit (or perhaps purposely closed), it had become fas- 
tened by the spring; and it was the retention of this 
spring which had been mistaken by the police for that 
of the nail, — farther inquiry being thus considered 
unnecessary. 

“ The next question is that of the mode of descent. 
Upon this point I had been satisfied in my walk with 
you around the building. About five feet and a half 
from the casement in question there runs a lightning- 
rod. From this rod it would have been impossible 


THE RUE MORGUE 53 

for any one to reach the window itself, to say nothing 
of entering it. I observed, however, that the shut- 
ters of the fourth story were of that peculiar kind 
called by Parisian carpenters ferrades — a kind rarely 
employed at the present day, but frequently seen up- 
on very old mansions at Lyons and Bordeaux. They 
are in the form of an ordinary door (a single, not a 
folding door), except that the lower half is latticed or 
worked in open trellis — thus affording an excellent 
hold for the hands. In the present instance these 
shutters are fully three feet and a half broad. When 
we saw them from the rear of the house, they were 
both about half open — that is to say, they stood off 
at right angles from the wall. It is probable that the 
police, as well as myself, examined the back of the 
tenement ; but, if so, in looking at these ferrades in the 
line of their breadth (as they must have done), they 
did not perceive this great breadth itself, or, at all 
events, failed to take it into due consideration. In 
fact, having once satisfied themselves that no egress 
could have been made in this quarter, they would 
naturally bestow here a very cursory examination. 


54 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

It was clear to me, however, that the shutter belong- 
ing to the window at the head of the bed, would, if 
swung fully back to the wall, reach to within two feet 
of the lightning-rod. It was also evident that, by ex- 
ertion of a very unusual degree of activity and cour- 
age, an entrance into the window, from the rod, might 
have been thus effected. By reaching to the distance 
of two feet and a half (we now suppose the shutter 
open to its whole extent), a robber might have taken a 
firm grasp upon the trellis-work. Letting go, then, 
his hold upon the rod, placing his feet securely against 
the wall, and springing boldly from it, he might have 
swung the shutter so as to close it, and, if we imagine 
the window open at the time, might even have swung 
himself into the room. 

“ I wish you to bear especially in mind that I have 
spoken of a very unusual degree of activity as requi- 
site to success in so hazardous an,d so difficult a feat. 
It is my design to show you, first, that the thing might 
possibly have been accomplished ; but, secondly and 
chiefly, I wish to impress upon your understanding 
the very extraordinary — the almost preternatural 


THE RUE MORGUE 


55 


character of that agility which could have accom- 
plished it. 

“ You will say, no doubt, using the language of the 
law, that, ‘ to make out my case,’ I should rather un- 
dervalue, than insist upon a full estimation of the 
activity required in this matter. This may be the 
practice in law, but it is not the usage of reason. My 
ultimate object is only the truth. My immediate 
purpose is to lead you to place in juxtaposition, that 
very unusual activity of which I have just spoken, 
with that very peculiar shrill (or harsh) and unequal 
voice, about whose nationality no two persons could 
be found to agree, and in whose utterance no syllabi- 
fication could be detected.” 

At these words a vague and half formed concep- 
tion of the meaning of Dupin flitted over my mind. 
I seemed to be upon the verge of comprehension, 
without power to comprehend; as men, at times, find 
themselves upon the brink of remembrance, with- 
out being able, in the end, to remember. My friend 
went on with his discourse. 

“You will see,” he said, “that I have shifted the 


56 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


question from the mode of egress to that of ingress. 
It was my design to convey the idea that both were 
effected in the same manner, at the same point. Let 
us now revert to the interior of the room. ~ Let us sur- 
vey the appearances here. The drawers of the bu- 
reau, it is said, had been rifled, although many articles 
of apparel still remained within them. The con- 
clusion here is absurd. It is a mere guess — a very 
silly one — and no more. How are we to know that 
the articles found in the drawers were not all these 
drawers originally contained ? Madame L’Espanaye 
and her daughter lived an exceedingly retired life — 
saw no company — seldom went out — had little use 
for numerous changes of habiliment. Those found 
were at least of as good quality as any likely to be pos- 
sessed by these ladies. If a thief had taken any, why 
did he not take the best — why did he not take all ? 
In a word, why did he abandon four thousand francs 
in gold to encumber himself with a bundle of linen ? 
The gold was abandoned. Nearly the whole sum 
mentioned by Monsieur Mignaud, the banker, was 
discovered, in bags, upon the floor. I wish you, there- 


THE RUE MORGUE 


57 


fore, to discard from your thoughts the blundering 
idea of motive , engendered in the brains of the police 
by that portion of the evidence which speaks of money 
delivered at the door of the house. Coincidences 
ten times as remarkable as this (the delivery of the 
money, and murder committed within three days 
upon the party receiving it) happen to all of us every 
hour of our lives, without attracting even momen- 
tary notice. Coincidences, in general, are great 
stumbling-blocks in the way of that class of thinkers 
who have been educated to know nothing of the the- 
ory of probabilities — that theory to which the most 
glorious objects of human research are indebted 
for the most glorious of illustration. In the present 
instance, had the gold been gone, the fact of its deliv- 
ery three days before would have formed something 
more than a coincidence. It would have been cor- 
roborative of this idea of motive. But, under the real 
circumstances of the case, if we are to suppose gold 
the motive of this outrage, we must also imagine the 
perpetrator so vacillating an idiot as to have aban- 
doned his gold and his motive together. 


58 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

“ Keeping now steadily in mind the points to which 
I have drawn your attention — that peculiar voice, 
that unusual agility, and that startling absence of 
motive in a murder so singularly atrocious as this — 
let us glance at the butchery itself. Here is a woman 
strangled to death by manual strength, and thrust 
up a chimney, head downward. Ordinary assassins 
employ no such mode of murder as this. Least of 
all, do they thus dispose of the murdered. In the 
manner of thrusting the corpse up the chimney, you 
will admit that there was something excessively 
outre - — something altogether irreconcilable with our 
common notions of human action, even when we sup- 
pose the actors the most depraved of men. Think, 
too, how great must have been that strength which 
could have thrust the body up such an aperture so 
forcibly that the united vigour of several persons 
was found barely sufficient to drag it down ! 

“Turn, now, to other indications of the employ- 
ment of a vigour most marvellous. On the hearth 
were thick tresses — very thick tresses — of grey 
human hair. These had been torn out by the roots. 


THE RUE MORGUE 


59 


You are aware of the great force necessary in tearing 
thus from the head even twenty or thirty hairs to- 
gether. You saw the locks in question as well as 
myself. Their roots (a hideous sight!) were clotted 
with fragments of flesh of the scalp : sure token of the 
prodigious power which had been exerted in uproot- 
ing perhaps half a million of hairs at a time. The 
throat of the old lady was not merely cut, but the head 
absolutely severed from the body : the instrument was 
a mere razor. I wish you also to look at the brutal 
ferocity of these deeds. Of the bruises upon the 
body of Madame L’Espanaye I do not speak. Mon- 
sieur Dumas, and his worthy coadjutor Monsieur 
Etienne, have pronounced that they were inflicted by 
some obtuse instrument; and so far these gentlemen 
are very correct. The obtuse instrument was clearly 
the stone pavement in the yard, upon which the vic- 
tim had fallen from the window which looked in upon 
the bed. This idea, howeyer simple it may now 
seem, escaped the police for the same reason that the 
breadth of the shutters escaped them — because, by 
the affair of the nails, their perceptions had been 


60 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


hermetically sealed against the possibility of the 
windows having ever been opened at all. 

“ If now, in addition to all these things, you have 
properly reflected upon the odd disorder of the cham- 
ber, we have gone so far as to combine the ideas of an 
agility astounding, a strength superhuman, a feroc- 
ity brutal, a butchery without motive, a grotesquerie 
in horror absolutely alien from humanity, and a voice 
foreign in tone to the ears of men of many nations, 
and devoid of all distinct or intelligible syllabifi- 
cation. What result, then, has ensued? What im- 
pression have I made upon your fancy ? ” 

I felt a creeping of the flesh as Dupin asked me the 
question. “ A madman,” I said, “ has done this deed 
— some raving maniac, escaped from a neighbouring 
Maison de Sante.” 

“In some respects,” he replied, “your idea is not 
irrelevant. But the voices of madmen, even in their 
wildest paroxysms, are never found to tally with that 
peculiar voice heard upon the stairs. Madmen are 
of some nation, and their language, however inco- 
herent in its words, has always the coherence of 


THE RUE MORGUE 61 

syllabification. Besides, the hair of a madman is 
not such as I now hold in my hand. I disentangled 
this little tuft from the rigidly closed fingers of 
Madame L’Espanaye. Tell me what you can make 
of it.” 

“Dupin!” I said, completely unnerved; “this hair 
is most unusual — this is no human hair.” 

“ I have not asserted that it is,” said he; “ but, be- 
fore we decide this point, I wish you to glance at the 
little sketch I have here traced upon this paper. It 
is a facsimile drawing of what has been described in 
one portion of the testimony as ‘dark bruises and 
deep indentations of fingers nails’ upon the throat 
of Mademoiselle L’Espanaye, and in another (by 
Messrs. Dumas and Etienne) as ‘ a series of livid 
spots, evidently the impression of fingers.’ 

“You will perceive,” continued my friend, spread- 
ing out the paper upon the table before us, “that 
this drawing gives the idea of a firm and fixed hold. 
There is no slipping apparent. Each finger has 
retained — possibly until the death of the victim — 
the fearful grasp by which it originally imbedded 


62 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


itself. Attempt, now, to place all your fingers at the 
same time, in the respective impressions as you see 
them.” 

I made the attempt in vain. 

“We are possibly not giving this matter a fair trial,” 
he said. “ The paper is spread out upon a plain sur- 
face; but the human throat is cylindrical. Here is a 
billet of wood, the circumference of which is about 
that of the throat. Wrap the drawing around it, and 
try the experiment again.” 

fc. 

I did so ; but the difficulty was even more obvious 
than before. “ This,” I said, “ is the mark of no hu- 
man hand.” 

“Read now,” replied Dupin, “this passage from 
Cuvier.” 

It was a minute anatomical and generally descrip- 
tive account of the large fulvous Ourang-Outang of 
the East Indian Islands. The gigantic stature, the 
prodigious strength and activity, the wild ferocity, 
and the imitative propensities of these mammalia are 
sufficiently well known to all. I understood the full 
horrors of the murders at once. 


THE RUE MORGUE 


63 


“ The description of the digits,” said I, as I made 
an end of the reading, “ is in exact accordance with 
his drawing. I see that no animal but an Ourang- 
Outang, of the species here mentioned, could have 
impressed the indentations as you have traced them. 
This tuft of tawny hair, too, is identical in character 
with that of the beast of Cuvier. But I cannot pos- 
sibly comprehend the particulars of this frightful mys- 
tery. Besides, there were two voices heard in con- 
tention, and one of them was unquestionably the 
voice of a Frenchman.” 

“True; and you will remember an expression at- 
tributed almost unanimously, by the evidence, to this 
voice, — the expression, 4 mon Dieu ! 9 This, under 
the circumstances, has been justly characterized by • 
one of the witnesses (Montani, the confectioner) as 
an expression of remonstrance or expostulation. Up- 
on these two words, therefore, I have mainly built 
my hopes of a full solution of the riddle. A French- 
man was cognizant of the murder. It is possible — 
indeed it is far more than probable — that he was in- 
nocent of all participation in the bloody transactions 


64 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


which took place. The Ourang-Outang may have 
escaped from him. He may have traced it to the 
chamber, but, under the agitating circumstances 
which ensued, he could never have recaptured it. It 
is still at large. I will not pursue these guesses — for 
I have no right to call them more — since the shades 
of reflection upon which they are based are scarcely 
of sufficient depth to be appreciable by my own intel- 
lect, and since I could not pretend to make them in- 
telligible to the understanding of another. We will 
call them guesses, then, and speak of them as such. 
If the Frenchman in question is, indeed, as I suppose, 
innocent of this atrocity, this advertisement, which I 
left last night, upon our return home, at the office of 
Le Monde (a paper devoted to the shipping interest 
and much sought by sailors), will bring him to our 
residence.” 

He handed me a paper, and I read thus : 

“ Caught — In the Bois de Boulogne , early in the 

morning of the inst. (the morning of the murder) 

a very large , tawny Ourang-Outang of the Bornese 


THE RUE MORGUE 65 

species. The owner (who is ascertained to be a sailor , 
belonging to a Maltese vessel) may have the animal 
again , upon identifying it satisfactorily , and paying a 
few charges arising from its capture and keeping. 
Call at No. — Rue — , Faubourg St. Germain — au 
troisikme .” 

“ How was it possible,” I asked, “ that you should 
know the man to be a sailor, and belonging to a Mal- 
tese vessel P ” 

“ I do not know it,” said Dupin. “ I am not sure 
of it. Here, however, is a small piece of ribbon, 
which from its form, and from its greasy appearance, 
has evidently been used in tying the hair in one of 
those long queues of which sailors are so fond. More- 
over, this knot is one which few besides sailors can 
tie, and it is peculiar to the Maltese. I picked the 
ribbon up at the foot of the lightning-rod. It could 
not have belonged to either of the deceased. Now if, 
after all, I am wrong in my induction, from this rib- 
bon, that the Frenchman was a sailor belonging to a 
Maltese vessel, still I can have done no harm in 


66 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


saying what I did in the advertisement. If I am in 
error, he will merely suppose that I have been misled 
by some circumstance into which he will not take the 
trouble to inquire. But if I am right, a great point is 
gained. Cognizant although innocent of the murder, 
the Frenchman will naturally hesitate about replying 
to the advertisement — about demanding the Ourang- 
Outang. He will reason thus: ‘I am innocent; 
am poor; my Ourang-Outang is of great value — to 
one in my circumstances a fortune of itself — why 
should I lose it through idle apprehensions of danger ? 
Here it is, within my grasp. It was found in the Bois 
de Boulogne — at a vast distance from the scene of 
that butchery. How can it ever be suspected that a 
brute beast should have done the deed ? The police 
are at fault — they have failed to procure the slightest 
clue. Should they even trace the animal, it would 
be impossible to prove me cognizant of the murder, 
or to implicate me in guilt on account of that 
cognizance. Above all, I am known . The adver- 
tiser designates me as the possessor of the beast. I 
am not sure to what limit his knowledge may 


THE RUE MORGUE 


67 


extend. Should I avoid claiming a property of so 
great value, which it is known that I possess, I will 
render the animal, at least, liable to suspicion. It 
is not my policy to attract attention either to my 
self or to the beast. I will answer the advertisement, 
get the Ourang-Outang, and keep it close until this 
matter has blown over. ’ ” 

At this moment we heard a step upon the stairs. 

“Be ready/’ said Dupin, “with your pistols, but 
neither use them nor show them until at a signal 
from myself.” 

The front door of the house had been left open, 
and the visitor had entered, without ringing, and ad- 
vanced several steps upon the staircase. Now, how- 
ever, he seemed to hesitate. Presently we heard him 
descending. Dupin was moving quickly to the door, 
when we again heard him coming up. He did not 
turn back a second time, but stepped up with decision, 
and rapped at the door of our chamber. 

“ Come in,” said Dupin, in a cheerful and hearty 
tone. 

A man entered. He was a sailor, evidently — a tall , 


68 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


stout, and muscular-looking person, with a certain 
dare-devil expression of countenance, not altogether 
unprepossessing. His face, greatly sunburnt, was 
more than half hidden by whisker and mustachio. He 
had with him a huge oaken cudgel, but appeared to 
be otherwise unarmed. He bowed awkwardly, and 
bade us “ good-evening,” in French accents, which, 
although somewhat Neufchatelish, were still suffi- 
ciently indicative of a Parisian origin. 

“ Sit down,” my friend, said Dupin. “ I suppose 
you have called about the Ourang-Outang. Upon 
my word, I almost envy you the possession of him ; a 
remarkably fine, and, no doubt, a very valuable ani- 
mal. How old do you suppose him to be ? ” 

The sailor drew a long breath, with the air of a man 
relieved of some intolerable burden, and then replied, 
in an assured tone : 

“ I have no way of telling — but he can’t be more 
than four or five years old. Have you got him 
here ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; we had no conveniences for keeping him 
here. He is at a livery stable in the Rue Dubourg, 


THE RUE MORGUE 69 

just by. You can get him in the morning. Of 
course you are prepared to identify the property ? ” 

“ To be sure I am, sir.” 

“ I shall be sorry to part with him,” said Dupin. 

“ I don’t mean that you shall be at all this trouble 
for nothing, sir,” said the man. “Couldn’t expect 
it. Am very willing to pay a reward for the finding 
of the animal — that is to say, anything in reason.” 

“Well,” replied my friend, “ that is all very fair, to 
be sure. Let me think ! — what should I have ? Oh, 
I will tell you. My reward shall be this. You shall 
give me all the information in your power about these 
murders in the Rue Morgue.” 

Dupin said the last words in a very low tone and 
very quietly. Just as quietly, too, he walked toward 
the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. 
He then drew a pistol from his bosom and placed it, 
without the least flurry, upon the table. 

The sailor’s face flushed up as if he were strug- 
gling with suffocation. He started to his feet and 
grasped his cudgel ; but the next moment he fell 
back into his seat, trembling violently, and with the 


70 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


countenance of death itself. He spoke not a word. 
I pitied him from the bottom of my heart. 

“ My friend/’ said Dupin, in a kind tone, “you are 
alarming yourself unnecessarily — you are indeed. 
We mean you no harm whatever. I pledge you the 
honour of a gentleman, and of a Frenchman, that we 
intend you no injury. I perfectly well know that 
you are innocent of the atrocities in the Rue Morgue. 
It will not do, however, to deny that you are in some 
measure implicated in them. From what I have al- 
ready said, you must know that I have had means of 
information about this matter — means of which you 
could never have dreamed. Now the thing stands 
thus. You have done nothing which you could have 
avoided — nothing, certainly, which renders you cul- 
pable. You are not even guilty of robbery, when you 
might have robbed with impunity. You have noth- 
ing to conceal. You have no reason for conceal- 
ment. On the other hand, you are bound by every 
principle of honour to confess all you know. An 
innocent man is now imprisoned charged with that 
crime of which you can point out the perpetrator.” 


THE RUE MORGUE 


71 


The sailor had recovered his presence of mind, in a 
great measure, while Dupin uttered these words ; but 
his original boldness of bearing was all gone. 

“ So help me God,” said he, after a brief pause, “ I 
will tell you all I know about this affair ; but I do 
not expect you to believe one half I say — I would be 
a fool indeed if I did. Still, I am innocent, and I will 
make a clean breast if I die for it.” 

What he stated was, in substance, this. He had 
lately made a voyage to the Indian Archipelago. A 
party, of which he formed one, landed at Borneo, and 
passed into the interior on an excursion of pleasure. 
Himself and a companion had captured the Ourang- 
Outang. This companion dying, the animal fell 
into his own exclusive possession. After a great 
trouble, occasioned by the intractable ferocity of his 
captive during the home voyage, he at length suc- 
ceeded in lodging it safely at his own residence in 
Paris, where, not to attract toward himself the un- 
pleasant curiosity of his neighbours, he kept it 
carefully secluded, until such time as it should re- 
cover from a wound in the foot, received from a 


72 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


splinter on board ship. His ultimate design was to 
sell it. 

Returning home from some sailor’s frolic on the 
night, or rather in the morning of the murder, he 
found the beast occupying his own bedroom, into 
which it had broken from a closet adjoining, where it 
had been, as was thought, securely confined. Ra- 
zor in hand, and fully lathered, it was sitting before 
a looking-glass, attempting the operation of shaving, 
in which it had no doubt previously watched its mas- 
ter through the keyhole of the closet. Terrified at 
the sight of so dangerous a weapon in the posses- 
sion of an animal so ferocious, and so well able to use 
it, the man, for some moments, was at a loss what to 
do. He had been accustomed, however, to quiet the 
creature, even in its fiercest moods, by the use of a 
whip, and to this he now resorted. Upon sight of it, 
the Ourang-Outang sprang at once through the door 
of the chamber, down the stairs, and thence, through 
a window, unfortunately open, into the street. 

The Frenchman followed in despair; the ape, razor 
still in hand, occasionally stopping to look back, and 


THE RUE MORGUE 73 

gesticulate at his pursuer, until the latter had nearly 
come up with it. It then again made off. In this 
manner the chase continued for a long time. The 
streets were profoundly quiet, as it was nearly three 
o’clock in the morning. In passing down an alley 
in the rear of the Rue Morgue, the fugitive’s attention 
was arrested by a light gleaming from the open win- 
dow of Madame L’Espanaye’s chamber, in the fourth 
story of her house. Rushing to the building, it per- 
ceived the lightning-rod, clambered up with incon- 
ceivable agility, grasped the shutter, which was 
thrown fully back against the wall, and, by its means, 
swung itself directly upon the headboard of the bed. 
The whole feat did not occupy a minute. The shut- 
ter was kicked open again by the Ourang-Outang as 
it entered the room. 

The sailor, in the mean time, was both rejoiced and 
perplexed. He had strong hopes of now recaptur- 
ing the brute, as it could scarcely escape from the trap 
into which it had ventured, except by the rod, where 
it might be intercepted as it came down. On the 
other hand, there was much cause for anxiety as to 


74 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


what it might do in the house. This latter reflection 
urged the man still to follow the fugitive. A light- 
ning-rod is ascended without difficulty, especially by 
a sailor; but, when he had arrived as high as the win- 
dow, which' lay far to his left, his career was stopped ; 
the most that he could accomplish was to reach over 
so as to obtain a glimpse of the interior of the room. 
At this glimpse he nearly fell from his hold through 
excess of horror. Now it was that those hideous 
shrieks arose upon the night, which had startled 
from slumber the inmates of the Rue Morgue. 
Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, habited in 
their night clothes, had apparently been occupied in 
arranging some papers in the iron chest already 
mentioned, which had been wheeled into the middle 
of the room. It was open, and its contents lay be- 
side it on the floor. The victims must have been sit- 
ting with their backs toward the window; and, from 
the time elapsing between the ingress of the beast 
and the screams, it seems probable that it was not 
immediately perceived. The flapping to of the shut- 
ter would naturally have been attributed to the wind. 



AT THIS GLIMPSE HE NEARLY FELL FROM HIS HOLD THROUGH 

EXCESS OF HORROR 








. 

















































THE RUE MORGUE 


75 


As the sailor looked in, the gigantic animal had 
seized Madame L’Espanaye by the hair (which was 
loose, as she had been combing it), and was flourishing 
the razor about her face, in imitation of the mo- 
tions of a barber. The daughter lay prostrate and 
motionless; she had swooned. The screams and 
struggles of the old lady (during which her hair was 
torn from her head) had the effect of changing the 
probably pacific purposes of the Ourang-Outang into 
those of wrath. With one determined sweep of its 
muscular arm it nearly severed her head from her 
body. The sight of blood inflamed its anger into 
frenzy. Gnashing its teeth, and flashing fire from its 
eyes, it flew upon the body of the girl and imbedded 
its fearful talons in her throat, retaining its grasp un- 
til she expired. Its wandering and wild glances fell 
at this moment upon the head of the bed, over which 
the face of its master, rigid with horror, was just dis- 
cernible. The fury of the beast, who no doubt bore 
still in mind the dreaded whip, was instantly con- 
verted into fear. Conscious of having deserved pun- 
ishment, it seemed desirous of concealing its bloody 


76 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


deeds, and skipped about the chamber in an agony of 
nervous agitation; throwing down and breaking the 
furniture as it moved, and dragging the bed from the 
bedstead. In conclusion, it seized first the corpse of 
the daughter, and thrust it up the chimney, as it was 
found; then that of the old lady, which it immediate- 
ly hurled through the window headlong. 

As the ape approached the casement with its muti- 
lated burden, the sailor shrank aghast to the rod, and, 
rather gliding than clambering down it, hurried at 
once home — dreading the consequences of the butch- 
ery, and gladly abandoning, in his terror, all solici- 
tude about the fate of the Ourang-Outang. The 
words heard by the party upon the staircase were the 
Frenchman’s exclamations of horror and affright, 
commingled with the fiendish jabberings of the 
brute. 

I have scarcely anything to add. The Ourang- 
Outang must have escaped from the chamber by the 
rod, just before the breaking of the door. It must 
have closed the window as it passed through it. It 


THE RUE MORGUE 77 

was subsequently caught by the owner himself, who 
obtained for it a very large sum at the Jardin des 
Plantes. Le Bon was instantly released, upon our 
narration of the circumstances (with some comments 
from Dupin) at the bureau of the Prefect of Police. 
This functionary, however well disposed to my friend, 
could not altogether conceal his chagrin at the turn 
which affairs had taken, and was fain to indulge in a 
sarcasm or two about the propriety of every person 
minding his own business. 

“ Let him talk,” said Dupin, who had not thought 
it necessary to reply. “Let him discourse; it will 
ease his conscience. I am satisfied with having de- 
feated him in his own castle. Nevertheless, that he 
failed in the solution of this mystery, is by no means 
that matter for wonder which he supposes it ; for, in 
truth, our friend, the Prefect, is somewhat too cun- 
ning to be profound. In his wisdom is no stamen. 
It is all head and no body, like the pictures of the god- 
dess La verna — or, at best, all head and shoulders, 
like a codfish. But he is a good creature after all. 
I like him especially for one master stroke of cant, by 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


78 

which he has obtained his reputation for ingenuity, I 
mean the way he has 4 de nier ce qui est , et d ’expliquer 
ce qui n’ est pas . 9 99 * 


*Rousseau, Nouvelle H doise. 


THE MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET 



* 









THE 

MYSTERY OF MARIE ROGET* 

A SEQUEL TO 

“THE MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE ” 

There are ideal series of events which run parallel with 
the real ones. They rarely coincide. Men and circum- 
stances generally modify the ideal train of events , so that it 
seems imperfect, and its consequences are equally imperfect. 
Thus with the Reformation ; instead of Protestantism came 
Lutheranism. 

novalis (von hardenburg) : Moral Ansichten. 

There are few persons, even among the calmest 
thinkers, who have not occasionally been startled in- 
to a vague, yet thrilling half-credence in the super- 
natural, by coincidences of so seemingly marvellous 

* Upon the original publication of “ Marie Roget,” the foot- 
notes now appended were considered unnecessary ; but the lapse 


82 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

a character that, as mere coincidences, the intellect 
has been unable to receive them. Such sentiments — 
for the half-credences of which I speak have never 
the full force of thought — such sentiments are seldom 
thoroughly stifled unless by reference to the doctrine 
of chance, or, as it is technically termed, the Calculus 
of Probabilities. Now this Calculus is, in its essence, 

of several years since the tragedy upon which the tale is based, 
renders it expedient to give them, and also to say a few words in 
explanation of the general design. A young girl, Mary Cecilia 
Rogers, was murdered in the vicinity of New York ; and although 
her death occasioned an intense and long-enduring excitement, 
the mystery attending it had remained unsolved at the period 
when the present paper was written and published (November, 
1842). Herein, under pretense of relating the fate of a Parisian 
grisette, the author has followed, in minute details, the essential, 
while merely paralleling the inessential, facts of the real murder 
of Mary Rogers. Thus all argument founded upon the fiction is 
applicable to the truth ; and the investigation of the truth was 
the object. 

The “ Mystery of Marie Roget ” was composed at a distance 
from the scene of the atrocity, and with no other means of inves- 
tigation than the newspapers afforded. Thus much escaped the 
writer of which he could have availed himself had he been upon 
the spot and visited the localities. It may not be improper to 
record, nevertheless, that the confessions of two persons (one of 
them the Madame Deluc of the narrative), made, at different 
periods, long subsequent to the publication, confirmed, in full, 
not only the general conclusion, but absolutely all the chief hy- 
pothetical details by which that conclusion was attained. 


MARIE ROGET 


83 


purely mathematical ; and thus we have the anomaly 
of the most rigidly exact in science applied to the 
shadow and spirituality of the most intangible in spec- 
ulation. 

The extraordinary details which I am now called 
upon to make public, will be found to form, as re- 
gards sequence of time, the primary branch of a se- 
ries of scarcely intelligible coincidences , whose second- 
ary or concluding branch will be recognized by all 
readers in the late murder of Mary Cecilia 
Rogers, at New York. 

When, in an article entitled “ The Murders in the 
Rue Morgue,” I endeavoured, about a year ago, to 
depict some very remarkable features in the mental 
character of my friend, the Chevalier C. Auguste 
Dupin, it did not occur to me that I should ever re- 
sume the subject. This depicting of character con- 
stituted my design; and this design was fulfilled 
in the train of circumstances brought to instance by 
Dupin’s idiosyncrasy. I might have adduced other 
examples, but I should have proven no more. Late 
events, however, in their surprising development, 


84 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

have startled me into some further details, which will 
carry with them the air of extorted confession. Hear- 
ing what I have lately heard, it would be indeed 
strange should I remain silent in regard to what I 
both heard and saw so long ago. 

Upon the winding up of the tragedy involved in 
the deaths of Madame L’Espanaye and her daughter, 
the Chevalier dismissed the affair at once from his 
attention, and relapsed into his old habits of moody 
reverie. Prone, at all times, to abstraction, I readily 
fell in with his humour; and, continuing to occupy our 
chambers in the Faubourg Saint Germain, we gave 
the Future to the winds, and slumbered tranquilly in 
the Present, weaving the dull world around us into 
dreams. 

But these dreams were not altogether uninterrupt- 
ed. It may readily be supposed that the part played 
by my friend, in the drama at the Rue Morgue, had 
not failed of its impression upon the fancies of the 
Parisian police. With its emissaries, the name of 
Dupin had grown into a household word. The sim- 
ple character of those inductions by which he had dis- 


MARIE ROGET 


85 


entangled the mystery never having been explained 
even to the Prefect, or to any other individual than 
myself, of course it is not surprising that the affair 
was regarded as little less than miraculous, or that the 
Chevalier’s analytical abilities acquired for him the 
credit of intuition. His frankness would have led 
him to disabuse every inquirer of such prejudice; but 
his indolent humour forbade all farther agitation of a 
topic whose interest to himself had long ceased. It 
thus happened that he found himself the cynosure of 
the policial eyes ; and the cases were not few in which 
the attempt was made to engage his services at the 
Prefecture. One of the most remarkable instances 
was that of the murder of a young girl named Marie 
Roget. 

This event occurred about two years after the atroc- 
ity in the Rue Morgue. Marie, whose Christian and 
family name will at once arrest attention from their 
resemblance to those of the unfortunate “cigar-girl,” 
was the only daughter of the widow Estelle Roget. 
The father had died during the child’s infancy, and 
from the period of his death, until within eighteen 


86 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

months before the assassination which forms the sub- 
ject of our narrative, the mother and daughter had 
dwelt together in the Rue Pavee Saint Andree*; 
Madame there keeping a pension , assisted by Marie. 
Affairs went on thus until the latter had attained her 
twenty-second year, when her great beauty attracted 
the notice of a perfumer, who occupied one of the 
shops in the basement of the Palais Royal, and whose 
custom lay chiefly among the desperate adventurers 
infesting that neighbourhood. Monsieur Le Blancf 
was not unaware of the advantages to be derived from 
the attendance of the fair Marie in his perfumery; 
and his liberal proposals were accepted eagerly by the 
girl, although with somewhat more of hesitation by 
Madame. 

The anticipations of the shopkeeper were realized, 
and his rooms soon became notorious through the 
charms of the sprightly grisette. She had been in his 
employ about a year, when her admirers were thrown 
into confusion by her sudden disappearance from the 

* Nassau Street. 

t Anderson. 


MARIE ROGET 


87 


shop. Monsieur Le Blanc was unable to account 
for her absence, and Madame Roget was distracted 
with anxiety and terror. The public papers immedi- 
ately took up the theme, and the police were upon the 
point of making serious investigations, when, one fine 
morning, after the lapse of a week, Marie, in good 
health, but with a somewhat saddened air, made her 
reappearance at her usual counter in the perfumery. 
All inquiry, except that of a private character, was 
of course immediately hushed. Monsieur Le Blanc 
professed total ignorance, as before. Marie, with 
Madame, replied to all questions, that the last week 
had been spent at the house of a relation in the coun- 
try. Thus, the affair died away, and was generally 
forgotten; for the girl, ostensibly to relieve herself 
from the impertinence of curiosity, soon bade a final 
adieu to the perfumer, and sought the shelter of her 
mother’s residence in the Rue Pavee Saint Andree. 

It was about three years after this return home, 
that her friends were alarmed by her sudden disap- 
pearance for the second time. Three days elapsed, 
and nothing was heard of her. On the fourth her 


88 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


corpse was found floating in the Seine * near the shore 
which is opposite the quartier of the Rue Saint An- 
dree, and at a point not very far distant from the se- 
cluded neighbourhood of the Barriere du Roule.f 
The atrocity of the murder (for it was at once evi- 
dent that murder had been committed), the youth 
and beauty of the victim, and, above all, her previous 
notoriety, conspired to produce intense excitement in 
the minds of the sensitive Parisians. I can call to 
mind no similar occurrence producing so general and 
so intense an effect. For several weeks, in the discus- 
sion of this one absorbing theme, even the momen- 
tous political topics of the day were forgotten. The 
Prefect made unusual exertions; and the powers of 
the whole Parisian police were, of course, tasked to 
the utmost extent. 

Upon the first discovery of the corpse, it was not 
supposed that the murderer would be able to elude, 
for more than a very brief period, the inquisition 
which was immediately set on foot. It was not until 

*The Hudson, 
t Weehawken. 


MARIE ROGET 


89 


the expiration of a week that it was deemed necessary 
to offer a reward ; and even then this reward was lim- 
ited to a thousand francs. In the mean time the in- 
vestigation proceeded with vigour, if not always with 
judgment, and numerous individuals were examined 
to no purpose ; while, owing to the continual absence 
of all clue to the mystery, the popular excitement 
greatly increased. At the end of the tenth day it was 
thought advisable to double the sum originally pro- 
posed ; and, at length, the second week having elapsed 
without leading to any discoveries, and the prejudice 
which always exists in Paris against the police having 
given vent to itself in several serious emeutes , the Pre- 
fect took it upon himself to offer the sum of twenty 
thousand francs “for the conviction of the assassin,” 
or, if more than one should prove to have been impli- 
cated, “ for the conviction of any one of the assassins.” 
In the proclamation setting forth this reward, a full 
pardon was promised to any accomplice who should 
come forward in evidence against his fellow; and to 
the whole was appended, wherever it appeared, the 
private placard of a committee of citizens, offering 


90 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


ten thousand francs, in addition to the amount pro- 
posed by the Prefecture. The entire reward thus 
stood at no less than thirty thousand francs, which 
will be regarded an extraordinary sum when we 
consider the humble condition of the girl, and the 
great frequency, in large cities, of such atrocities as 
the one described. 

No one doubted now that the mystery of this mur- 
der would be immediately brought to light. But al- 
though, in one or two instances, arrests were made 
which promised elucidation, yet nothing was elicited 
which could implicate the parties suspected ; and they 
were discharged forthwith. Strange as it may ap- 
pear, the third week from the discovery of the body 
had passed, and passed without any light being 
thrown upon the subject, before even a rumour of the 
events which had so agitated the public mind reached 
the ears of Dupin and myself. Engaged in researches 
which had absorbed our whole attention, it had been 
nearly a month since either of us had gone abroad, 
or received a visitor, or more than glanced at the 
leading political articles in one of the daily papers. 


MARIE ROGET 


91 


The first intelligence of the murder was brought 
us by G — , in person. He called upon us early 
in the afternoon of the thirteenth of July, 18 — , and 
remained with us until late in the night. He had 
been piqued by the failure of all his endeavours to 
ferret out the assassins. His reputation — so he said 
with a peculiarly Parisian air — was at stake. Even 
his honour was concerned. The eyes of the public 
were upon him; and there was really no sacrifice 
which he would not be willing to make for the de- 
velopment of the mystery. He concluded a some- 
what droll speech with a compliment upon what he 
was pleased to term the tact of Dupin, and made him 
a direct and certainly a liberal proposition, the precise 
nature of which I do not feel myself at liberty to dis- 
close, but which has no bearing upon the proper sub- 
ject of my narrative. 

The compliment my friend rebutted as best he 
could, but the proposition he accepted at once, al- 
though its advantages were altogether provisional. 
This point being settled, the Prefect broke forth at 
once into explanations of his own views, interspersing 


92 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


them with long comments upon the evidence ; of which 
latter we were not yet in possession. He discoursed 
much, and beyond doubt, learnedly; while I haz- 
arded an occasional suggestion as the night wore 
drowsily away. Dupin, sitting steadily in his accus- 
tomed arm-chair, was the embodiment of respectful 
attention. He wore spectacles during the whole in- 
terview ; and an occasional glance beneath their green 
glasses sufficed to convince me that he slept not the 
less soundly, because silently, throughout the seven 
or eight leaden-footed hours which immediately pre- 
ceded the departure of the Prefect. 

In the morning, I procured, at the Prefecture, a full 
report of all the evidence elicited, and, at the various 
newspaper offices, a copy of every paper in which, 
from first to last, had been published any decisive in- 
formation in regard to this sad affair. Freed from 
all that was positively disproved, this mass of infor- 
mation stood thus : 

Marie Roget left the residence of her mother, in 
the Rue Pavee Saint Andree, about nine o’clock in 
the morning of Sunday, June the twenty-second, 18 — . 


MARIE ROGET 


93 


In going out, she gave notice to a Monsieur Jacques 
St. Eustache,* and to him only, of her intention to 
spend the day with an aunt, who resided in the Rue 
des Dromes. The Rue des Dromes is a short and 
narrow but a populous thoroughfare, not far from the 
banks of the river, and at a distance of some two miles 
in the most direct course possible, from the pension 
of Madame Roget. St. Eustache was the accepted 
suitor of Marie, and lodged, as well as took his meals, 
at the pension. He was to have gone for his be- 
trothed at dusk, and to have escorted her home. In 
the afternoon, however, it came on to rain heavily; 
and, supposing that she would remain all night at 
her aunt’s (as she had done under similar circum- 
stances before), he did not think it necessary to keep 
his promise. As night drew on, Madame Roget 
(who was an infirm old lady, seventy years of age) 
was heard to express a fear “ that she would never see 
Marie again;” but this observation attracted little 
attention at the time. 

On Monday, it was ascertained that the girl had 
* Payne. 


94 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


not been to the Rue des Dromes ; and when the day 
elapsed without tidings of her, a tardy search was in- 
stituted at several points in the city and its environs. 
It was not, however, until the fourth day from the pe- 
riod of her disappearance that anything satisfactory 
was ascertained respecting her. On this day (Wednes- 
day, the twenty-fifth of June) a Monsieur Beau- 
vais,* who, with a friend, had been making inquiries 
for Marie near the Barriere du Roule, on the shore of 
the Seine, which is opposite the Rue Pavee Saint 
Andree, was informed that a corpse had just been 
towed ashore by some fishermen, who had found it 
floating in the river. Upon seeing the body, Beau- 
vais, after some hesitation, identified it as that of 
the perfumery-girl. His friend recognized it more 
promptly. 

The face was suffused with dark blood, some of 
which issued from the mouth. No foam was seen, 
as in the case of the merely drowned. There was no 
discoloration in the cellular tissue. About the throat 
were bruises and impressions of fingers. The arms 
* Crommelin. 


MARIE ROGET 


95 


were bent over on the chest and were rigid. The 
right hand was clinched; the left partially open. On 
the left wrist were two circular excoriations, appar- 
ently the effect of ropes, or of a rope in more than 
one volution. A part of the right wrist also, was 
much chafed, as well as the back throughout its ex- 
tent, but more especially at the shoulder-blades. In 
bringing the body to the shore the fishermen had at- 
tached to it a rope, but none of the excoriations had 
been effected by this. The flesh of the neck was 
much swollen. There were no cuts apparent, or 
bruises which appeared the effect of blows. A piece 
of lace was found tied so tightly round the neck as to 
be hidden from sight ; it was completely buried in the 
flesh, and was fastened by a knot which lay just un- 
der the left ear. This alone would have sufficed to 
produce death. The medical testimony spoke confi- 
dently of the virtuous character of the deceased. She 
had been subjected, it said, to brutal violence. The 
corpse was in such condition when found, that there 
could have been no difficulty in its recognition by 
friends. 


96 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

The dress was much torn and otherwise disordered. 
In the outer garment, a slit, about a foot wide, had 
been torn upward from the bottom hem to the waist, 
but not torn off. It was wound three times around 
the waist, and secured by a sort of hitch in the back. 
The dress immediately beneath the frock was of 
fine muslin; and from this a slip eighteen inches 
wide had been torn entirely out — torn very evenly 
and with great care. It was found around her neck, 
fitting loosely, and secured with a hard knot. Over 
this muslin slip and the slip of lace, the strings of a 
bonnet were attached; the bonnet being appended. 
The knot by which the strings of the bonnet were 
fastened was not a lady’s, but a slip or sailor’s 
knot. 

After the recognition of the corpse, it was not, as 
usual, taken to the morgue (this formality being su- 
perfluous), but hastily interred not far from the spot 
at which it was brought ashore. Through the exer- 
tions of Beauvais, the matter was industriously 
hushed up as far as possible; and several days had 
elapsed before any public emotion resulted. A 


MARIE ROGET 97 

weekly paper,* however, at length took up the 
theme, the corpse was disinterred, and a re-examina- 
tion instituted ; but nothing was elicited beyond 
what has been already noted. The clothes, however, 
were now submitted to the mother and friends of the 
deceased, and fully identified as those worn by the 
girl upon leaving home. 

Meantime, the excitement increased hourly. Sev- 
eral individuals were arrested and discharged. St. 
Eustache fell especially under suspicion; and he 
failed, at first, to give an intelligible account of his 
whereabouts during the Sunday on which Marie left 
home. Subsequently, however, he submitted to Mon- 
sieur G — affidavits, accounting satisfactorily for 
every hour of the day in question. As time passed and 
no discovery ensued, a thousand contradictory ru- 
mours were circulated, and journalists busied them- 
selves in suggestions. Among these, the one which 
attracted the most notice, was the idea that Marie 
Roget still lived — that the corpse found in the Seine 
was that of some other unfortunate. It will be 


*The New York Mercury. 


98 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


proper that I submit to the reader some passages 
which embody the suggestion alluded to. These pas- 
sages are literal translations from L'Etoile ,* a paper 
conducted in general with much ability. 

“ Mademoiselle Roget left her mother’s house on 
Sunday morning, June the twenty-second, 18 — , with 
the ostensible purpose of going to see her aunt, or 
some other connection, in the Rue des Drbmes. From 
that hour nobody is proved to have seen her. There 
is no trace or tidings of her at all. . . . There 

has no person whatever, come forward, so far, who 
saw her at all, on that day, after she left her mother’s 
door. . . . Now, though we have no evidence 

that Marie Roget was in the land of the living after 
nine o’clock, on Sunday, June the twenty-second, we 
have proof that, up to that hour, she was alive. On 
Wednesday noon, at twelve, a female body was dis- 
covered afloat on the shore of the Barriere du Roule. 
This was, even if we presume that Marie Roget was 

*The New York Brother Jonathan , edited by H. Hastings 
Weld, Esq. 


MARIE ROGET 99 

thrown into the river within three hours after she left 
her mother’s house, only three days from the time she 
left her home — three days to an hour. But it is folly 
to suppose that the murder, if murder was committed 
on her body, could have been consummated soon 
enough to have enabled her murderers to throw her 
body into the river before midnight. Those who 
are guilty of such horrid crimes choose darkness 
rather than light. . . . Thus we see that if the 

body found in the river was that of Marie Roget, it 
could only have been in the water two and a half days, 
or three at the outside. All experience has shown 
that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into the water 
immediately after death by violence, require from six 
to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take place 
to bring them to the top of the water. Even where a 
cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises before at 
least five or six days immersion, it sinks again, if 
left alone. Now, we ask, what was there in this 
case to cause a departure from the ordinary course 
of nature ? ... If the body had been kept in 

its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, some 


100 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

trace would be found on shore of the murderers. It 
is a doubtful point, also, whether the body would be 
so soon afloat, even were it thrown in after having 
been dead two days. And, furthermore, it is exceed- 
ingly improbable that any villains who had committed 
such a murder as is here supposed, would have 
thrown the body in without weight to sink it, when 
such a precaution could have so easily been taken.” 

The editor here proceeds to argue that the body 
must have been in the water “ not three days merely, 
but, at least, five times three days,” because it was so 
far decomposed that Beauvais had great difficulty in 
recognizing it. This latter point, however, was fully 
disproved. I continue the.translation : 

“ What, then, are the facts on which M. Beauvais 
says that he has no doubt that the body was that of 
Marie Roget? He ripped up the gown sleeve, and 
says he found marks which satisfied him of the 
identity. The public generally supposed those marks 
to have consisted of some description of scars. He 


MARIE ROGET 


101 


rubbed the arm and found hair upon it — something 
as indefinite we think, as can readily be imagined — 
as little conclusive as finding an arm in the sleeve. 
M. Beauvais did not return that night, but sent 
word to Madame Roget, at seven o’clock, on Wednes- 
day evening, that an investigation was still in 
progress respecting her daughter. If we allow that 
Madame Roget, from her age and grief, could not 
go over (which is allowing a great deal), there 
certainly must have been some one who would have 
thought it worth while to go over and attend the in- 
vestigation, if they thought the body was that of 
Marie. Nobody went over. There was nothing 
said or heard about the matter in the Rue Pavee 
Saint Andree, that reached even the occupants of the 
same building. M. St. Eustache, the lover and in- 
tended husband of Marie, who boarded in her moth- 
er’s house, deposes that he did not hear of the discov- 
ery of the body of his intended until the next morning, 
when M. Beauvais came into his chamber and told 
him of it. For an item of news like this, it strikes us 
it was very coolly received.” 


102 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


In this way the journal endeavoured to create the 
impression of an apathy on the part of the relatives of 
Marie, inconsistent with the supposition that these 
relatives believed the corpse to be hers. Its insinua- 
tions amount to this : that Marie, with the connivance 
of her friends, had absented herself from the city for 
reasons involving a charge against her chastity; and 
that these friends upon the discovery of a corpse in 
the Seine, somewhat resembling that of the girl, had 
availed themselves of the opportunity to impress the 
public with the belief of her death. But L'Etoile 
was again over-hasty. It was distinctly proved that 
no apathy, such as was imagined, existed ; that the old 
lady was exceedingly feeble, and so agitated as to be 
unable to attend to any duty; that St. Eustache, 
so far from receiving the news coolly, was distracted 
with grief, and bore himself so frantically, that M. 
Beauvais prevailed upon a friend and relative to 
take charge of him, and prevent his attending the 
examination at the disinterment. Moreover, al- 
though it was stated by L'Etoile , that the corpse was 
reinterred at the public expense, that an advan- 


MARIE ROGET 


103 


tageous offer of private sepulture was absolutely de- 
clined by the family, and that no member of the 
family attended the ceremonial ; — although, I say, 
all this was asserted by L ’ Etoile in furtherance of the 
impression it designed to convey — yet all this was 
satisfactorily disproved. In a subsequent number 
of the paper, an attempt was made to throw suspicion 
upon Beauvais himself. The editor says : 

“ Now, then, a change comes over the matter. We 
are told that, on one occasion, while a Madame B — 
was at Madame Roget’s house, M. Beauvais, who 
was going out, told her that a gendarme was expected 
there, and that she, Madame B., must not say any- 
thing to the gendarme until he returned, but let the 
matter be for him. ... In the present posture 
of affairs, M. Beauvais appears to have the whole 
matter locked up in his head. A single step cannot 
be taken without M. Beauvais, for, go which way you 
will, you run against him. . . . For some reason 
he determined that nobody shall have anything to do 
with the proceedings but himself, and he has elbowed 


104 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the male relatives out of the way, according to their 
representations, in a very singular manner. He 
seems to have been very much averse to permitting 
the relatives to see the body.” 

By the following fact, some colour was given to the 
suspicion thus thrown upon Beauvais. A visitor at his 
office, a few days prior to the girl’s disappearance, and 
during the absence of its occupant, had observed a rose 
in the keyhole of the door, and the name “ Marie ” 
inscribed upon a slate which hung near at hand. 

The general impression, so far as we were able to 
glean it from the newspapers, seemed to be, that 
Marie had been the victim of a gang of desperadoes — 
that by these she had been borne across the river, 
maltreated, and murdered. Le Commerciel ,* how- 
ever, a print of extensive influence, was earnest in 
combating this popular idea. I quote a passage or 
two from its columns : 

“We are persuaded that pursuit has hitherto been 
on a false scent, so far as it has been directed to the 


* New York Journal of Commerce. 


MARIE ROGET 


105 


Barriere du Roule. It is impossible that a person so 
well known to thousands as this young woman was, 
should have passed three blocks without some one 
having seen her; and any one who saw her would have 
remembered it, for she interested all who knew her. 
It was when the streets were full of people, when she 
went out . . . It is impossible that she could 

have gone to the Barriere du Roule, or to the Rue 
des Dromes, without being recognized by a dozen 
persons; yet no one has come forward who saw her 
outside her mother’s door, and there is no evidence, 
excepting the testimony concerning her expressed 
intentions , that she did go out at all. Her gown was 
torn, bound round her, and tied; and by that the 
body was carried as a bundle. If the murder had 
been committed at the Barriere du Roule, there 
would have been no necessity for any such arrange- 
ment. The fact that the body was found floating 
near the Barriere is no proof as to where it was 
thrown into the water. . . . Apiece of one of 

the unfortunate girl’s petticoats, two feet long and 
one foot wide, was torn out and tied under her chin 


106 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


around the back of her head, probably to prevent 
screams. This was done by fellows who had no 
pocket-handkerchief. ’ ’ 

A day or two before the Prefect called upon us, 
however, some important information reached the 
police, which seemed to overthrow, at least, the chief 
portion of Le CommercieV s argument. Two small 
boys, sons of a Madame Deluc, while roaming in 
the woods near the Barriere du Roule, chanced to 
penetrate a close thicket, within which were three or 
four large stones, forming a kind of seat with a back 
and footstool. On the upper stone lay a white petti- 
coat; on the second, a silk scarf. A parasol, gloves, 
and a pocket-handkerchief were also here found. 
The handkerchief bore the name “Marie Roget.” 
Fragments of dress were discovered on the brambles 
around. The earth was trampled, the bushes were 
broken, and there was every evidence of a struggle. 
Between the thicket and the river, the fences were 
found taken down and the ground bore evidence of 
some heavy burden being dragged along it. 


MARIE ROGET 


107 


A weekly paper, Le Soleil ,* had the following com- 
ments upon this discovery — comments which merely 
echoed the sentiment of the whole Parisian press : 

“ The things had all evidently been there at least 
three or four weeks; they were all mildewed down 
hard with the action of the rain, and stuck together 
from mildew. The grass had grown around and 
over some of them. The silk on the parasol was 
strong, but the threads of it were run together within. 
The upper part, where it had been doubled and fold- 
ed, was all mildewed and rotten, and tore on its being 
opened. . . . The pieces of her frock torn out 
by the bushes were about three inches wide and six 
inches long. One part was the hem of the frock, and 
it had been mended ; the other piece was part of the 
skirt, not the hem. They looked like strips torn off, 
and were on the thorn bush, about a foot from the 
ground. . . . There can be no doubt, therefore, 
that the spot of this appalling outrage has been dis- 
covered.” 

* Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post, edited by C. J. Peterson, 
Esq. 


108 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Consequent upon this discovery, new evidence ap- 
peared. Madame Deluc testified that she keeps a 
roadside inn not far from the bank of the river, oppo- 
site the Barriere du Roule. The neighbourhood is 
secluded — particularly so. It is the usual Sunday 
resort of blackguards from the city, who cross the 
river in boats. About three o’clock in the afternoon 
of the Sunday in question, a young girl arrived at the 
inn, accompanied by a young man of dark com- 
plexion. The two remained here for some time. On 
their departure, they took the road to some thick 
woods in the vicinity. Madame Deluc’s attention 
was called to the dress worn by the girl, on account of 
its resemblance to one worn by a deceased relative. 
A scarf was particularly noticed. Soon after the de- 
parture of the couple, a gang of miscreants made 
their appearance, behaved boisterously, ate and 
drank without making payment, followed in the route 
of the young man and girl, returned to the inn about 
dusk, and recrossed the river as if in great haste. 

It was soon after dark, upon this same evening, 
that Madame Deluc, as well as her eldest son, heard 


MARIE ROGET 


109 


the screams of a female in the vicinity of the inn. 
The screams were violent but brief. Madame Deluc 
recognized not only the scarf which was found in the 
thicket, but the dress which was discovered upon the 
corpse. An omnibus driver, Valence,* now also tes- 
tified that he saw Marie Roget cross a ferry on the 
Seine, on the Sunday in question, in company with a 
young man of dark complexion. He, Valence, knew 
Marie, and could not be mistaken in her identity. 
The articles found in the thicket were fully identified 
by the relatives of Marie. 

The items of evidence and information thus col- 
lected by myself, from the newspapers, at the sugges- 
tion of Dupin, embraced only one more point — but 
this was a point of seemingly vast consequence. It 
appears that, immediately after the discovery of the 
clothes as above described, the lifeless, or nearly life- 
less body of St. Eustache, Marie’s betrothed, was 
found in the vicinity of what all now supposed the 
scene of the outrage. A phial labelled “ laudanum,” 
and emptied, was found near him. His breath gave 


* Adam. 


110 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


evidence of the poison. He died without speaking. 
Upon his person was found a letter, briefly stating 
his love for Marie, with his design of self-destruction. 

“I need scarcely tell you,” said Dupin, as he fin- 
ished the perusal of my notes, “ that this is a far more 
intricate case than that of the Rue Morgue; from 
which it differs in one important respect. This is 
an ordinary , although an atrocious, instance of crime. 
There is nothing peculiarly outre about it. You will 
observe that, for this reason, the mystery has been 
considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have 
been considered difficult of solution. Thus, at first, 
it was thought unnecessary to offer a reward. The 
myrmidons of G — were able at once to compre- 
hend how and why such an atrocity might have been 
committed. They could picture to their imagina- 
tions a mode — many modes — and a motive — many 
motives ; and because it was not impossible that either 
of these numerous modes and motives could have 
been the actual one, they have taken it for granted 
that one of them must. But the ease with which 
these variable fancies were entertained, and the very 


MARIE ROGET 


111 


plausibility which each assumed, should have been 
understood as indicative rather of the difficulties 
than of the facilities which must attend elucidation. 
I have before observed that it is by prominences 
above the plane of the ordinary that reason feels her 
way, if at all, in the search for the true, and that the 
proper question in cases such as this is not so much 
‘what has occurred ? * as ‘ what has occurred that has 
never occurred before ? ’ In the investigations at the 
house of Madame L’Espanaye,* the agents of G — 
were discouraged and confounded by that very 
unusualness which, to a properly regulated intellect, 
would have afforded the surest omen of success; 
while this same intellect might have been plunged in 
despair at the ordinary character of all that met the 
eye in the case of the perfumery-girl, and yet told of 
nothing but easy triumph to the functionaries in the 
Prefecture. 

“In the case of Madame L’Espanaye and her 
daughter, there was, even at the beginning of our 
investigation, no doubt that murder had been 
* See “ Murders in the Rue Morgue.” 


112 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

committed. The idea of suicide was excluded at once. 
Here, too, we are freed at the commencement from 
all suppositions of self-murder. The body found at 
the Barriere du Roule was found under such circum- 
stances as to leave us no room for embarrassment up- 
on this important point. But it has been suggested 
that the corpse discovered is not that of the Marie 
Roget for the conviction of whose assassin, or assas- 
sins, the reward is offered, and respecting whom, 
solely, our agreement has been arranged with the 
Prefect. We both know this gentleman well. It will 
not do to trust him too far. If, dating our inquiries 
from the body found, and then tracing a murderer, 
we yet discover this body to be that of some other 
individual than Marie; or if, starting from the living 
Marie, we find her, yet find her unassassinated — in 
either case we lose our labour; since it is with Mon- 
sieur G — with whom we have to deal. For our 
own purpose, therefore, if not for the purpose of 
justice, it is indispensable that our first step should 
be the determination of the identity of the corpse 
with the Marie Roget who is missing. 


MARIE ROGET 


113 


“With the public the arguments of L'Etoile have 
had weight; and that the journal itself is convinced 
of their importance would appear from the manner 
in which it commences one of its essays upon the sub- 
ject — ‘ Several of the morning papers of the day,’ it 
says, ‘speak of the conclusive article in Monday’s 
L'Etoile ' To me, this article appears conclusive of 
little beyond the zeal of its inditer. We should 
bear in mind that, in general, it is the object of our 
newspapers rather to create a sensation — to make a 
point — than to further the cause of truth. The lat- 
ter end is only pursued when it seems coincident with 
the former. The print which merely falls in with 
the ordinary opinion (however well founded this 
opinion may be) earns for itself no credit with the 
mob. The mass of the people regard as profound 
only him who suggests pungent contradictions of the 
general idea. In ratiocination, not less than in lit- 
erature, it is the epigram which is the most immedi- 
ately and the most universally appreciated. In both, 
it is the lowest order of merit. 

“What I mean to say is, that it is the mingled 


114 


MONSIEUR DUP1N 


epigram and melodrame of the idea, that Marie Ro- 
get still lives, rather than any true plausibility in this 
idea, which have suggested it to L ’Etoile, and secured 
it a favourable reception with the public. Let us ex- 
amine the heads of this journal’s argument; endeav- 
ouring to avoid the incoherence with which it is 
originally set forth. 

“The first aim of the writer is to show, from the 
brevity of the interval between Marie’s disappear- 
ance and the finding of the floating corpse, that this 
corpse cannot be that of Marie. The reduction of 
this interval to its smallest possible dimension, be- 
comes thus, at once, an object with the reasoner. In 
the rash pursuit of this object, he rushes into mere 
assumption at the outset. ‘It is folly to suppose,’ 
he says, ‘ that the murder, if murder was committed 
on her body, could have been consummated soon 
enough to have enabled her murderers to throw the 
body into the river before midnight.’ We demand 
at once, and very naturally, why ? Why is it folly to 
suppose that the murder was committed within five 
minutes after the girl’s quitting her mother’s house ? 


MARIE ROGET 


115 


Why is it folly to suppose that the murder was com- 
mitted at any given period of the day ? There have 
been assassinations at all hours. But, had the mur- 
der taken place at any moment between nine o ’clock 
in the morning of Sunday and a quarter before mid- 
night, there would still have been time enough ‘to 
throw the body in the river before midnight.’ This 
assumption, then, amounts precisely to this — that 
the murder was not committed on Sunday at all — 
and, if we allow L'Etoile to assume this, we may per- 
mit it any liberties whatever. The paragraph begin- 
ning ‘It is folly to suppose that the murder, etc.,’ 
however it appears as printed in L'Etoile , may be 
imagined to have existed exactly thus in the brain 
of its inditer : ‘ It is folly to suppose that the murder, 
if murder was committed on the body, could have 
been committed soon enough to have enabled her 
murderers to throw the body into the river before 
midnight; it is folly, we say, to suppose all this, and 
to suppose at the same time (as we are resolved to 
suppose), that the body was not thrown in until after 
midnight’ — a sentence sufficiently inconsequential 


116 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


in itself, but not so utterly preposterous as the one 
printed. 

“Were it my purpose,” continued Dupin, “merely 
to make out a case against this passage of UEtoile’s 
argument, I might safely leave it where it is. It is 
not, however, with L'Etoile that we have to do, but 
with the truth. The sentence in question has but 
One meaning, as it stands ; and this meaning I have 
fairly stated; but it is material that we go behind 
the mere words, for an idea which these words have 
obviously intended and failed to convey. It was 
the design of the journalists to say that, at whatever 
period of the day or' night of Sunday this murder 
was committed, it was ‘improbable that the assassins 
would have ventured to bear the corpse to the river 
before midnight. And herein lies, really, the as- 
sumption of which I complain. It is assumed that 
the murder was committed at such a position, and 
under such circumstances, that the bearing it to the 
river became necessary. Now, the assassination 
might have taken place upon the river’s brink, or 
on the river itself; and, thus, the throwing the 


MARIE ROGET 


117 


corpse into the water might have been resorted to at 
any period of the day or night, as the most obvious 
and most immediate mode of disposal. You will 
understand that I suggest nothing here as probable, 
or as coincident with my own opinion. My design, 
so far, has no reference to the facts of the case. I 
wish merely to caution you against the whole tone of 
L'Etoile s suggestion , by calling your attention to its 
ex -parte character at the outset. 

“Having prescribed thus a limit to suit its own 
preconceived notions; having assumed that, if this 
were the body of Marie, it could have been in the 
water but a very brief time, the journal goes on to 
say: 


“‘All experience has shown that drowned bodies, 
or bodies thrown into the water immediately after 
death by violence, require from six to ten days for 
sufficient decomposition to take place to bring them 
to the top of the water. Even when a cannon is fired 
over a corpse, and it rises before at least five or six 
days immersion, it sinks again if left alone.’ 


118 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“These assertions have been tacitly received by 
every paper in Paris, with the exception of Le Moni- 
teur.* This latter print endeavours to combat that 
portion of the paragraph which has reference to 
4 drowned bodies ’ only, by citing some five or six in- 
stances in which the bodies of individuals known to 
be drowned were found floating after the lapse of less 
time than is insisted upon by L'Etoile. But there is 
something excessively unphilosophical in the at- 
tempt, on the part of Le Moniteur, to rebut the gen- 
eral assertion of L'Etoile , by a citation of particular 
instances militating against that assertion. Had it 
been possible to adduce fifty instead of five examples 
of bodies found floating at the end of two or three 
days, these fifty examples could still have been prop- 
erly regarded only as exceptions to L'Etoile's rule, 
until such time as the rule itself should be confuted. 
Admitting the rule (and this Le Moniteur does not 
deny, insisting merely upon its exceptions) the argu- 
ment of L'Etoile is suffered to remain in full force; 

*The New York Commercial Advertiser , edited by Colonel 
Stone. 


MARIE ROGET 


119 


for this argument does not pretend to involve more 
than a question of the 'probability of the body having 
risen to the surface in less than three days; and this 
probability will be in favour of L'Etoile's position 
until the instances so childishly adduced shall be suf- 
ficient in number to establish an antagonistical rule. 

“ You will see at once that all argument upon this 
head should be urged, if at all, against the rule itself; 
and for this end we must examine the rationale of the 
rule. Now the human body, in general, is neither 
much lighter nor much heavier than the water of the 
Seine ; that is to say, the specific gravity of the human 
body, in its natural condition, is about equal to the 
bulk of fresh water which it displaces. The bodies 
of fat and fleshy persons, with small bones, and of 
women generally, are lighter than those of the lean 
and large-boned, and of men; and the specific gravity 
of the water of a river is somewhat influenced by the 
presence of the tide from the sea. But, leaving this 
tide out of the question, it may be said that very few 
human bodies will sink at all, even in fresh water, of 
their own accord. Almost any one, falling into a 


120 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


river, will be enabled to float, if he suffer the specific 
gravity of the water fairly to be adduced in compari- 
son with his own — that is to say, if he suffer his whole 
person to be immersed, with as little exception as pos- 
sible. The proper position for one who cannot swim, 
is the upright position of the walker on land with his 
head thrown fully back, and immersed; the mouth 
and nostrils alone remaining above the surface. Thus 
circumstanced, we shall find that we float without 
difficulty and without exertion. It is evident, how- 
ever, that the gravities of the body, and of the bulk of 
water displaced, are very nicely balanced, and that a 
trifle will cause either to preponderate. An arm, for 
instance, uplifted from the water, and thus deprived 
of its support, is an additional weight sufficient to 
immerse the whole head, while the accidental aid of 
the smallest piece of timber will enable us to elevate 
the head so as to look about. Now, in the struggles 
of one unused to swimming, the arms are in- 
variably thrown upwards, while an attempt is made 
to keep the head in its usual perpendicular posi- 
tion. The result is the immersion of the mouth and 


MARIE ROGET 


121 


nostrils, and the inception, during efforts to breathe 
while beneath the surface, of water into the lungs. 
Much is also received into the stomach, and the 
whole body becomes heavier by the difference be- 
tween the weight of the air originally distending 
these cavities, and that of the fluid which now fills 
them. This difference is sufficient to cause the body 
to sink, as a general rule; but is insufficient in the 
case of individuals with small bones and an abnormal 
quantity of flaccid or fatty matter. Such individuals 
float even after drowning. 

“ The corpse, being supposed at the bottom of the 
river, will there remain until, by some means, its 
specific gravity again becomes less than that of 
the bulk of water which it displaces. This effect is 
brought about by decomposition, or otherwise. The 
result of decomposition is the generation of gas, dis- 
tending the cellular tissues and all the cavities, and 
giving the puffed appearance which is so horrible. 
When this distension has so far progressed that the 
bulk of the corpse is materially increased without a 
corresponding increase of mass or weight, its specific 


122 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


gravity becomes less than that of the water displaced, 
and it forthwith makes its appearance at the surface. 
But decomposition is modified by innumerable cir- 
cumstances — is hastened or retarded by innumerable 
agencies ; for example, by the heat or cold of the sea- 
son, by the mineral impregnation or purity of the 
water, by its depth or shallowness, by its currency or 
stagnation, by the temperament of the body, by its 
infection or freedom from disease before death. Thus 
it is evident that we can assign no period, with any- 
thing like accuracy, at which the corpse shall rise 
through decomposition. Under certain conditions 
this result would be brought about within an hour; 
under others it might not take place at all. There 
are chemical infusions by which the animal frame 
can be preserved forever from corruption; the bi- 
chloride of mercury is one. But, apart from decom- 
position, there may be, and very usually is, a genera- 
tion of gas within the stomach, from the acetous fer- 
mentation of vegetable matter (or within other cavi- 
ties from other causes), sufficient to induce a disten- 
sion which will bring the body to the surface. 


MARIE ROGET 


123 


The effect produced by the firing of a cannon is 
that of simple vibration. This may either loosen 
the corpse from the soft mud or ooze in which it is 
imbedded, thus permitting it to rise when other 
agencies have prepared it for so doing; or it may 
overcome the tenacity of some putrescent portions 
of the cellular tissue ; allowing the cavities to distend 
under the influence of the gas. 

“Having thus before us the whole philosophy of 
this subject, we can easily test by it the assertions of 
L'Etoile. ‘All experience shows/ says this paper, 
‘ that drowned bodies, or bodies thrown into the water 
immediately after death by violence, require from 
six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to take 
place to bring them to the top of the water. Even 
when a cannon is fired over a corpse, and it rises be- 
fore at least five or six days’ immersion, it sinks again 
if left alone.’ 

“ The whole of this paragraph must now appear a 
tissue of inconsequence and incoherence. All ex- 
perience does not show that ‘ drowned bodies ’ require 
from six to ten days for sufficient decomposition to 


124 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


take place to bring them to the surface. Both sci- 
ence and experience show that the period of their 
rising is, and necessarily must be, indeterminate. 
If, moreover, a body has risen to the surface through 
the firing of cannon, it will not ‘sink again if let 
alone,’ until decomposition has so far progressed as 
to permit the escape of the generated gas. But I 
wish to call your attention to the distinction which is 
made between ‘ drowned bodies,’ and ‘ bodies thrown 
into the water immediately after death by violence.’ 
Although the writer admits the distinction, he yet in- 
cludes them all in the same category. I have shown 
how it is that the body of a drowning man becomes 
specifically heavier than its bulk of water, and that 
he would not sink at all, except for the struggle by 
which he elevates his arms above the surface, and 
his gasps for breath while beneath the surface — gasps 
which supply by water the place of the original air in 
the lungs. But these struggles and these gasps would 
not occur in the body ‘ thrown into the water immedi- 
ately after death by violence.’ Thus, in the latter in- 
stance, the body , as a general rule , would not sink at 


MARIE ROGET 


125 


all — a fact of which L ’Etoile is evidently ignorant. 
When decomposition has proceeded to a very great 
extent — when the flesh had in a great measure left the 
bones — then, indeed, but not till then, should we lose 
sight of the corpse. 

“ And now what are we to make of the argument, 
that the body found could not be that of Marie Roget, 
because, three days only having elapsed, this body 
was found floating? If drowned, being a woman, 
she might never have sunk; or, having sunk, might 
have reappeared in twenty-four hours or less. But 
no one supposes her to have been drowned; and, dy- 
ing before being thrown into the river, she might 
have been found floating at any period afterwards 
whatever. 

“ ‘ But,’ says V Etoile , ‘ if the body had been kept 
in its mangled state on shore until Tuesday night, 
some trace would be found on shore of the murderers.’ 
Here it is at first difficult to perceive the intention of 
the reasoner. He means to anticipate what he im- 
agines would be an objection to his theory — viz. : that 
the body was kept on shore two days, suffering rapid 


126 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


decomposition — more rapid than if immersed in 
water. He supposes that, had this been the case, it 
might have appeared at the surface on the Wednesday, 
and thinks that only under such circumstances it 
could have so appeared. He is, accordingly, in haste 
to show that it was not kept on shore ; for, if so, * some 
trace would be found on shore of the murderers.’ I 
presume you smile at the sequitur. You cannot be 
made to see how the mere duration of the corpse on 
the shore would operate to multiply traces of the assas- 
sins. Nor can I. 

“ ‘ And, furthermore, it is exceedingly improbable,’ 
continues our journal, ‘that any villains who had 
committed such a murder as is here supposed, would 
have thrown the body in without weight to sink it, 
when such a precaution could have so easily been 
taken.’ Observe, here, the laughable confusion of 
thought ! No one — not even L’Etoile — disputes the 
murder committed on the body found. The marks of 
violence are too obvious. It is our reasoner’s object 
merely to show that this body is not Marie’s. He 
wishes to prove that Marie is not assassinated— not 


MARIE ROGET 


127 


that the corpse was not. Yet his observation proves 
only the latter point. Here is a corpse without weight 
attached. Murderers, casting it in, would not have 
failed to attach a weight. Therefore it was not 
thrown in by murderers. This is all which is proved, 
if anything is. The question of identity is not even 
approached, and L'Etoile has been at great pains 
merely to gainsay now what it has admitted only a 
moment before. ‘We are perfectly convinced,’ it 
says, ‘ that the body found was that of a murdered 
female.’ 

“ Nor is this the sole instance, even in this division 
of his subject, where our reasoner unwittingly rea- 
sons against himself. His evident object, I have al- 
ready said, is to reduce, as much as possible, the in- 
terval between Marie’s disappearance and the find- 
ing of the corpse. Yet we find him urging the point 
that no person saw the girl from the moment of her 
leaving her mother’s house. ‘ We have no evidence,’ 
he says, ‘that Marie Roget was in the land of the 
living after nine o’clock on Sunday, June the twenty- 
second.’ As his argument is obviously an ex-parte 


128 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

one, he should, at least, have left this matter out of 
sight; for had any one been known to see Marie, say 
on Monday, or on Tuesday, the interval in question 
would have been much reduced, and, by his own 
ratiocination, the probability much diminished of the 
corpse being that of the grisette. It is, nevertheless, 
amusing to observe that L'Etoile insists upon its 
point in the full belief of its furthering its general 
argument. 

“Reperuse now that portion of this argument 
which has reference to the identification of the corpse 
by Beauvais. In regard to the hair upon the arm, 
L'Etoile has been obviously disingenious. M. Beau- 
vais, not being an idiot, could never have urged, in 
identification of the corpse, simply hair upon its arm. 
No arm is without hair. The generality of the ex- 
pression of L'Etoile is a mere perversion of the wit- 
ness’ phraseology. He must have spoken of some 
peculiarity in this hair. It must have been a peculi- 
arity of colour of quantity, of length, or of situation. 

“‘Her foot,’ says the journal, ‘was small — so are 
thousands of feet. Her garter is no proof whatever — 


MARIE ROGET 


129 


nor is her shoe — for shoes and garters are sold in 
packages. The same may be said of the flowers in 
her hat. One thing upon which M. Beauvais strong- 
ly insists is, that the clasp on the garter found had 
been set back to take it in. This amounts to nothing ; 
for most women find it proper to take a pair of gar- 
ters home and fit them to the size of the limbs they 
are to encircle, rather than to try them in the store 
where they purchase.’ Here it is difficult to suppose 
the reasoner in earnest. Had M. Beauvais, in his 
search for the body of Marie, discovered a corpse 
corresponding in general size and appearance to the 
missing girl, he would have been warranted (without 
reference to the question of habiliment at all) in for- 
ming an opinion that his search had been successful. 
If, in addition to the point of general size and con- 
tour, he had found upon the arm a peculiar hairy 
appearance which he had observed upon the living 
Marie, his opinion might have been justly strength- 
ened ; and the increase of positiveness might well have 
been in the ratio of the peculiarity, or unusualness of 
the hairy mark. If, the feet of Marie being small. 


130 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


those of the corpse were also small, the increase of 
probability that the body was that of Marie would 
not be an increase in a ratio merely arithmetical, 
but in one highly geometrical, or accumulative. Add 
to all this shoes such as she had been known to wear 
upon the day of her disappearance, and, although 
these shoes may be ‘ sold in packages,’ you so far aug- 
ment the probability as to verge upon the certain. 
What, of itself, would be no evidence of identity, be- 
comes, through its corroborative position, proof most 
sure. Give us, then, flowers in the hat correspond- 
ing to those worn by the missing girl, and we seek for 
nothing further. If only one flower, we seek for 
nothing further — what then if two or three, or more ? 
Each successive one is multiple evidence — proof not 
added to proof — but multiplied by hundreds or thou- 
sands. Let us now discover, upon the deceased, gar- 
ters such as the living used, and it is almost folly to 
proceed. But these garters are found to be tightened 
by the setting back of a clasp, in just such a manner 
as her own had been tightened by Marie shortly pre- 
vious to her leaving home. It is now madness or 


MARIE ROGET 


131 


hypocrisy to doubt. What L'Etoile says in respect 
to this abbreviation of the garters being an unusual 
occurrence, shows nothing beyond its own pertinac- 
ity in error. The elastic nature of the clasp garter 
is self -demonstration of the unusualness of the abbre- 
viation. What is made to adjust itself must of ne- 
cessity require foreign adjustment but rarely. It 
must have been by an accident, in its strictest sense, 
that these garters of Marie needed the tightening de- 
scribed. They alone would have amply established 
her identity. But it is not that the corpse was found 
to have the garters of the missing girl, or found to 
have her shoes, or her bonnet, or the flowers of her 
bonnet, or her feet, or a peculiar mark upon the arm, 
or her general size and appearance — it is that the 
corpse had each, and all collectively. Could it be 
proved that the editor of L ’ Etoile really entertained a 
doubt, under the circumstances, there would be no 
need, in his case, of a commission de lunatico inquir- 
endo. He has thought it sagacious to echo the small 
talk of the lawyers, who, for the most part, content 
themselves with echoing the rectangular precepts of 


132 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

the courts. I would here observe that very much of 
what is rejected as evidence by a court, is the best of 
evidence to the intellect. For the court, guiding itself 
by the general principles of evidence — the recognized 
and booked principles — is averse from swerving at 
particular instances. And this steadfast adherence 
to principle, with rigorous disregard of the conflicting 
exception, is a sure mode of attaining the maximum 
of attainable truth, in any long sequence of time. 
The practice, in mass , is therefore philosophical; but 
it is not the less certain that it engenders vast indi- 
vidual error.* 

“In respect to the insinuations levelled at Beau- 
vais, you will be willing to dismiss them in a breath. 
You have already fathomed the true character of this 
good gentleman. He is a busybody , with much of 

* “ A theory based on the qualities of an object, will prevent 
its being unfolded according to its objects ; and he who arranges 
topics in reference to their causes, will cease to value them ac- 
cording to their results. Thus the jurisprudence of every nation 
will show that, when law becomes a science and a system, it 
ceases to be justice. The errors into which a blind devotion to 
'principles of classification has led the common law, will be seen 
by observing how often the legislature has been obliged to come 
forward to restore the equity its scheme had lost.” — Landor. 


MARIE ROGET 


133 


romance and little of wit. Any one so constituted will 
readily so conduct himself, upon occasion of real 
excitement, as to render himself liable to suspicion 
on the part of the over-acute, or the ill-disposed. M. 
Beauvais (as it appears from your notes) had some 
personal interviews with the editor of L'Etoile, and 
offended him by venturing an opinion that the corpse, 
notwithstanding the theory of the editor, was, in sober 
fact, that of Marie. ‘He persists,’ says the paper, 
‘ in asserting the corpse to be that of Marie, but can- 
not give a circumstance, in addition to those which 
we have commented upon, to make others believe.’ 
Now, without readverting to the fact that stronger 
evidence ‘ to make others believe,’ could never have 
been adduced, it may be remarked that a man may 
very well be understood to believe, in a case of this 
kind, without the ability to advance a single reason for 
the belief of a second party. Nothing is more vague 
than impressions of individual identity. Each man 
recognizes his neighbour, yet there are few instances 
in which any one is prepared to give a reason for 
his recognition. The editor of L'Etoile had no 


134 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


right to be offended at M. Beauvais’s unreasoning 
belief. 

“The suspicious circumstances which invest him 
will be found to tally much better with my hypothe- 
sis of romantic busybodyism, than with the reasoner’s 
suggestion of guilt. Once adopting the more chari- 
table interpretation, we shall find no difficulty in 
comprehending the rose in the keyhole ; the ‘ Marie * 
upon the slate; the 4 elbowing the male relatives out of 
the way ’ ; the ‘ aversion to permitting them to see the 
body’; the caution given to Madame B — , that she 
must hold no conversation with the gendarme until 
his return (Beauvais ’s) ; and, lastly, his apparent de- 
termination ‘that nobody shall have anything to do 
with the proceedings except himself.’ It seems to me 
unquestionable that Beauvais was a suitor of Marie’s ; 
that she coquetted with him ; and that he was ambi- 
tious of being thought to enjoy her fullest intimacy 
and confidence. I shall say nothing more upon this 
point; and, as the evidence fully rebuts the assertion 
of L'Etoile , touching the matter of apathy on the 
part of the mother and other relatives — an apathy 


MARIE ROGET 


135 


inconsistent with the supposition of their believing the 
corpse to be that of the perfumery-girl — we shall now 
proceed as if the question of identity were settled to 
our perfect satisfaction.” 

“And what,” I here demanded, “do you think of 
the opinions of Le Commerciel ? ” 

“ That, in spirit, they are far more worthy of atten- 
tion than any which have been promulgated upon the 
subject. The deductions from the premises are phil- 
osophical and acute; but the premises, in two instan- 
ces, at least, are founded in imperfect observation. 
Le Commerciel wishes to intimate that Marie was 
seized by some gang of low ruffians not far from her 
mother’s door. ‘It is impossible,’ it urges, ‘that a 
person so well known to thousands as this young 
woman was, should have passed three blocks with- 
out some one having seen her.’ This is the idea of a 
man long resident in Paris — a public man — and one 
whose walks to and fro in the city have been mostly 
limited to the vicinity of the public offices. He is 
aware that he seldom passes so far as a dozen blocks 
from his own bureau, without being recognized and 


136 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


accosted. And. knowing the extent of his personal 
acquaintance with others, and of others with him, he 
compares his notoriety with that of the perfumery- 
girl, finds no great difference between them, and 
reaches at once the conclusion that she, in her walks, 
would be equally liable to recognition with himself 
in his. This could only be the case were her walks 
of the same unvarying, methodical character, and 
within the same species of limited region as are his 
own. He passes to and fro, at regular intervals, 
within a confined periphery, abounding in individ- 
uals who are led to observation of his person through 
interest in the kindred nature of his occupation 
with their own. But the walks of Marie may, in 
general, be supposed discursive. In this particular 
instance, it will be understood as most probable, 
that she proceeded upon a route of more than average 
diversity from her accustomed ones. The parallel 
which we imagined to have existed in the mind of 
Le Commerciel would only be sustained in the event 
of the two individuals traversing the whole city. In 
this case, granting the personal acquaintances to be 


MARIE ROGET 


137 


equal, the chances will be also equal that an equal 
number of personal rencontres would be made. For 
my own part, I should hold it not only as possible, 
but as very far more than probable, that Marie might 
have proceeded, at any given period, by any one of 
the many routes between her own residence and 
that of her aunt, without meeting a single individual 
whom she knew, or by whom she was known. In 
viewing this question in its full and proper light, we 
must hold steadily in mind the great disproportion 
between the personal acquaintances of even the most 
noted individual in Paris, and the entire population 
of Paris itself. 

“ But whatever force there may still appear to be in 
the suggestion of Le Commerciel , will be much dimin- 
ished when we take into consideration the hour at 
which the girl went abroad. ‘ It was when the streets 
were full of people,’ says Le Commerciel , ‘that she 
went out.’ But not so. It was at nine o’clock in the 
morning. Now at nine o’clock of every morning in the 
week, with the exception of Sunday , the streets of the 
city are, it is true, thronged with people. At nine, on 


138 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Sunday, the populace are chiefly within doors prepar- 
ing for church. No observing person can have failed 
to notice the peculiarly deserted air of the town, from 
about eight until ten on the morning of every Sab- 
bath. Between ten and eleven the streets are thronged, 
but not at so early a period as that designated. 

“There is another point at which there seems a 
deficiency of observation on the part of Le Commerciel. 
‘ A piece,’ it says, ‘ of one of the unfortunate girl’s pet- 
ticoats, two feet long, and one foot wide, was torn out 
and tied under her chin, and around the back of her 
head, probably to prevent screams. This was done 
by fellows who had no pocket-handkerchiefs.’ 
Whether this idea is or is not well founded, we will 
endeavour to see hereafter; but by ‘ fellows who have 
no pocket-handkerchiefs,’ the editor intends the low- 
est class of ruffians. These, however, are the very 
description of people who will always be found to 
have handkerchiefs even when destitute of shirts. 
You must have had occasion to observe how abso- 
lutely indispensable, of late years, to the thorough 
blackguard, has become the pocket-handkerchief.” 


MARIE ROGET 


139 


“ And what are we to think,” I asked, “ of the arti- 
cle in Le Soleil ? ” 

“That it is a vast pity its inditer was not born a 
parrot — in which case he would have been the most 
illustrious parrot of his race. He has merely re- 
peated the individual items of the already published 
opinion; collecting them, with a laudable industry, 
from this paper and from that. ‘ The things had all 
evidently been there,’ he says, ‘ at least three or four 
weeks, and there can be no doubt that the spot of this 
appalling outrage has been discovered.’ The facts 
here restated by Le Soleil , are very far indeed from 
removing my own doubts upon this subject, and we 
will examine them more particularly hereafter in con- 
nection with another division of the theme. 

“At present we must occupy ourselves with other 
investigations. You cannot fail to have remarked 
the extreme laxity of the examination of the corpse. 
To be sure, the question of identity was readily deter- 
mined, or should have been; but there were other 
points to be ascertained. Had the body been in any 
respect despoiled ? Had the deceased any articles of 


140 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


jewelry about her person upon leaving home ? if so, 
had she any when found ? These are important 
questions utterly untouched by the evidence; and 
there are others of equal moment, which have met 
with no attention. We must endeavour to satisfy our- 
selves by personal inquiry. The case of St. Eustache 
must be re-examined. I have no suspicion of this 
person, but let us proceed methodically. We will 
ascertain beyond a doubt the validity of the affidavits 
in regard to his whereabouts on the Sunday. Affi- 
davits of this character are readily made matters of 
mystification. Should there be nothing wrong here, 
however, we will dismiss St. Eustache from our in- 
vestigations. His suicide, however corroborative of 
suspicion, were there found to be deceit in the affi- 
davits, is, without such deceit, in no respect an unac- 
countable circumstance, or one which need cause us 
to deflect from the line of ordinary analysis. 

“ In that which I now propose, we will discard the 
interior points of this tragedy, and concentrate our 
attention upon its outskirts. Not the least usual 
error in investigations such as this is the limiting of 


MARIE ROGET 


141 


inquiry to the immediate, with total disregard of the 
collateral or circumstantial events. It is the mal- 
practice of the courts to confine evidence and discus- 
sion to the bounds of apparent relevancy. Yet ex- 
perience has shown, and a true philosophy will 
always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion 
of truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant. It is 
through the spirit of this principle, if not precisely 
through its letter, that modern science has resolved to 
calculate upon the unforeseen. But perhaps you do 
not comprehend me. The history of human knowl- 
edge has so uninterruptedly shown that to collateral, 
or incidental, or accidental events we are indebted 
for the most numerous and most valuable discoveries, 
that it has at length become necessary, in prospective 
view of improvement, to make not only large, but the 
largest, allowances for inventions that shall arise by 
chance, and quite out of the range of ordinary ex- 
pectation. It is no longer philosophical to base upon 
what has been, a vision of what is to be. Accident is 
admitted as a portion of the substructure. We make 
chance a matter of absolute calculation. We subject 


142 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the unlooked for and unimagined to the mathemati- 
cal formula of the schools. 

“ I repeat that it is no more than fact, that the lar- 
ger portion of all truth has sprung from the collateral ; 
and it is but in accordance with the spirit of the prin- 
ciple involved in this fact, that I would divert inquiry, 
in the present case, from the trodden and hitherto un- 
fruitful ground of the event itself to the contemporary 
circumstances which surround it. While you ascer- 
tain the validity of the affidavits, I will examine the 
newspapers more generally than you have as yet done. 
So far, we have only reconnoitred the field of investi- 
gation; but it will be strange, indeed, if a comprehen- 
sive survey, such as I propose, of the public prints 
will not afford us some minute points which shall es- 
tablish a direction for inquiry.’’ 

In pursuance of Dupin’s suggestion, I made scru- 
pulous examination of the affair of the affidavits. 
The result was a firm conviction of their validity, and 
of the consequent innocence of St. Eustache. In the 
mean time my friend occupied himself, with what 
seemed to me a minuteness altogether objectless, in a 


MARIE ROGET 


143 


scrutiny of the various newspaper files. At the end 
of a week he placed before me the following extracts : 

“About three years and a half ago, a disturbance 
very similar to the present was caused by the disap- 
pearance of this same Marie Roget from the parjum- 
erie of Monsieur Le Blanc, in the Palais Royal. At 
the end of a week, however, she reappeared at her 
customary comptoir , as well as ever, with the excep- 
tion of a slight paleness not altogether usual. It was 
given out by Monsieur Le Blanc and her mother that 
she had merely been on a visit to some friend in the 
country; and the affair was speedily hushed up. We 
presume that the present absence is a freak of the 
same nature, and that, at the expiration of a week or, 
perhaps, of a month, we shall have her among us 
again.” Evening Paper , Monday, June 23.* 

“ An evening journal of yesterday refers to a for- 
mer mysterious disappearance of Mademoiselle Ro- 
get. It is well known that, during the week of her 
absence from Le Blanc’s parjumerie , she was in the 


* New York Express. 


144 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


company of a young naval officer mucr noted for his 
debaucheries. A quarrel, it is supposed, providen- 
tially, led to her return home. We have the name of 
the Lothario in question, who is, at present, stationed 
in Paris, but for obvious reasons forbear to make it 
public.” La Mer curie, Tuesday morning, June 24.* 

“An outrage of the most atrocious character was 
perpetrated near this city the day before yesterday. 
A gentleman, with his wife and daughter, engaged, 
about dusk, the services of six young men, who were 
idly rowing a boat to and fro near the banks of the 
Seine, to convey him across the river. Upon reach- 
ing the opposite shore, the three passengers stepped 
out, and had proceeded so far as to be beyond the 
view of the boat, when the daughter discovered that 
she had left in it her parasol. She returned for it, 
was seized by the gang, carried out into the stream, 
gagged, brutally treated, and finally taken to the 
shore at a point not far from that at which she had 
originally entered the boat with her parents. The 


* New York Herald. 


MARIE ROGET 


145 


villains have escaped for the time, but the police are 
upon their trail, and some of them will soon be taken.” 
Morning Paper , June 25.* 

“We have received one or two communications, 
the object of which is to fasten the crime of the late 
atrocity upon Mennais;| but as this gentleman has 
been fully exonerated by a legal inquiry, and as the 
arguments of our several correspondents appear to be 
more zealous than profound, we do not think it ad- 
visable to make them public.” Morning Paper , 
June 28. J 

“We have received several forcibly written com- 
munications, apparently from various sources, and 
which go far to render it a matter of certainty that the 
unfortunate Marie Roget has become a victim of one 
of the numerous bands of blackguards which infest 
the vicinity of the city upon Sunday. Our own opin- 
ion is decidedly in favour of this supposition. We 

*New York Courier and Inquirer. 

f Mennais was one of the parties originally suspected and 
arrested, but discharged through total lack of evidence. 

X New York Courier and Inquirer. 


146 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

shall endeavour to make room for some of these 
arguments hereafter.” Evening Paper , Tuesday, 
June 31.* 

“On Monday, one of the bargemen connected 
with the revenue service saw an empty boat floating 
down the Seine. Sails were lying in the bottom of 
the boat. The bargeman towed it under the barge 
office. The next morning it was taken from thence 
without the knowledge of any of the officers. The 
rudder is now at the barge office.” Le Diligence , 
Thursday, June 26. f 

Upon reading these various extracts, they not only 
seemed to be irrelevant, but I could perceive no mode 
in which any one of them could be brought to bear 
upon the matter in hand. I waited for some expla- 
nation from Dupin. 

“ It is not my present design,” he said, “ to dwell 
upon the first and the second of these extracts. I 
have copied them chiefly to show you the extreme 

* New York Evening Post. 
f New York Standard. 


MARIE ROGET 


147 


remissness of the police, who, as far as I can under- 
stand from the prefect, have not troubled themselves, 
in any respect, with an examination of the naval offi- 
cer alluded to. Yet it is mere folly to say that be- 
tween the first and second disappearance of Marie 
there is no supposable connection. Let us admit the 
first elopement to have resulted in a quarrel between 
the lovers, and the return home of the betrayed. We 
are now prepared to view a second elopement (if we 
know that an elopement has again taken place) as in- 
dicating a renewal of the betrayer’s advances, rather 
than as the result of new proposals by a second indi- 
vidual — we are prepared to regard it as a ‘ making- 
up ’ of the old amour , rather than as the commence- 
ment of a new one. The chances are ten to one, that 
he who had once eloped with Marie would again pro- 
pose an elopement, rather than that she to whom pro- 
posals of an elopement had been made by one individ- 
ual, should have them made to her by another. 
And here let me call your attention to the fact, that 
the time elapsing between the first ascertained and 
the second supposed elopement is a few months more 


148 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


than the general period of the cruises of our men-of- 
war. Had the lover been interrupted in his first vil- 
lainy by the necessity of departure to sea, and had he 
seized the first moment of his return to renew the base 
designs not yet altogether accomplished — or not yet 
altogether accomplished by him ? Of all these things 
we know nothing. 

“You will say, however, that, in the second in- 
stance, there was no elopement as imagined. Cer- 
tainly not — but are we prepared to say there was not 
the frustrated design? Beyond St. Eustache, and 
perhaps Beauvais, we find no recognized, no open, no 
honourable suitors of Marie. Of none other is there 
anything said. Who, then, is the secret lover, of 
whom the relatives (at least most of them ) know noth- 
ing, but whom Marie meets upon the morning of 
Sunday, and who is so deeply in her confidence, that 
she hesitates not to remain with him until the 
shades of the evening descend, amid the solitary 
groves of the Barriere du Roule ? Who is that secret 
lover, I ask, of whom, at least, most of the relatives 
know nothing? And what means the singular 


MARIE ROGET 


149 


prophecy of Madame Roget on the morning of 
Marie’s departure? — ‘I fear that I shall never see 
Marie again.’ 

“ But if we cannot imagine Madame Roget privy 
to the design of elopement, may we not at least sup- 
pose this design entertained by the girl ? Upon quit- 
ting home, she gave it to be understood that she was 
about to visit her aunt in the Rue des Dromes, and 
St. Eustache was requested to call for her at dark. 
Now, at first glance, this fact strongly militates 
against my suggestion; — but let us reflect. That 
she did meet some companion, and proceed with him 
across the river, reaching the Barriere du Roule at so 
late an hour as three o’clock in the afternoon, is 
known. But in consenting so to accompany this 
individual ( for whatever purpose — to her mother 
known or unknown ), she must have thought of her 
expressed intention when leaving home, and of the 
surprise and suspicion aroused in the bosom of her 
affianced suitor St. Eustache, when, calling for her, 
at the hour appointed, in the Rue des Drdmes, he 
should find that she had not been there, and when, 


150 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


moreover, upon returning to the pension with this 
alarming intelligence, he should become aware of her 
continued absence from home. She must have 
thought of these things, I say. She must have fore- 
seen the chagrin of St. Eustache, the suspicion of all. 
She could not have thought of returning to brave 
this suspicion; but the suspicion becomes a point of 
trivial importance to her, if we suppose her not in- 
tending to return. 

“We may imagine her thinking thus — 4 1 am to 
meet a certain person for the purpose of elopement, or 
for certain other purposes known only to myself. It 
is necessary that there be no chance of interruption — 
there must be sufficient time given us to elude pur- 
suit. I will give it to be understood that I shall visit 
and spend the day with my aunt at the Rue des 
Dromes — I will tell St. Eustache not to call for me 
until dark — in this way, my absence from my home 
for the longest possible period, without causing sus- 
picion or anxiety, will be accounted for, and I shall 
gain more time than in any other manner. If I bid 
St. Eustache call for me at dark, he will be sure not to 


MARIE ROGET 


151 


call before ; but, if I wholly neglect to bid him call, my 
time for escape will be diminished, since it will be ex- 
pected that I return the earlier, and my absence will 
the sooner excite anxiety. Now, if it were my design 
to return at all — if I had in contemplation merely a 
stroll with the individual in question — it would not be 
my policy to bid St. Eustache call; for, calling, he 
will be sure to ascertain that I have played him false 

— a fact of which I might keep him forever in igno- 
rance, by leaving home without notifying him of my 
intention, by returning before dark, and by then 
stating that I had been to visit my aunt in the Rue 
des Dromes. But, as it is my design never to return 

— or not for some weeks — or not until certain con- 
cealments are effected — the gaining of time is the 
only point about which I need give myself any con- 
cern/ 

“ You have observed, in your notes, that the most 
general opinion in relation to this sad affair is, and 
was from the first, that the girl had been the victim of 
a gang of blackguards. Now, the popular opinion, 
under certain conditions, is not to be disregarded. 


152 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


When arising of itself — when manifesting itself in a 
strictly spontaneous manner — we should look upon 
as analogous with that intuition which is the idio- 
syncrasy of the individual man of genius. In ninety- 
nine cases from the hundred I would abide by its de- 
cision. But it is important that we find no palpable 
traces of suggestion. The opinion must be rigor- 
ously the 'public’ s own; and the distinction is often 
exceedingly difficult to perceive and to maintain. In 
the present instance, it appears to me that this ‘ pub- 
lic opinion,’ in respect to a gang , has been superin- 
duced by the collateral event which is detailed in the 
third of my extracts. All Paris is excited by the dis- 
covered corpse of Marie, a girl young, beautiful, and 
notorious. This corpse is found, bearing marks of 
violence, and floating in the river. But it is now 
made known that, at the very period or about the 
very period, in which it is supposed that the girl was 
assassinated, an outrage similar in nature to that en- 
dured by the deceased, although less in extent, was 
perpetrated, by a gang of young ruffians, upon the 
person of a second young female. Is it wonderful 


MARIE ROGET 


153 


that the one known atrocity should influence the pop- 
ular judgment in regard to the other unknown ? This 
judgment awaited direction, and the known outrage 
seemed so opportunely to afford it ! Marie, too, was 
found in the river; and upon this very river wa« this 
known outrage committed. The connection of the 
two events had about it so much of the palpable, that 
the true wonder would have been a failure of the pop- 
ulace to appreciate and to seize it. But, in fact, the 
one atrocity, known to be so committed, is, if any- 
thing, evidence that the other, committed at a time 
nearly coincident, was not so committed. It would 
have been a miracle indeed, if, while a gang of ruf- 
fians were perpetrating, at a given locality, a most 
unheard-of wTong, there should have been another 
similar gang, in a similar locality, in the same city, 
under the same circumstances, with the same means 
and appliances, engaged in a wrong of precisely the 
same aspect, at precisely the same period of time! 
Yet in what, if not in this marvellous train of coinci- 
dence, does the accidentally suggested opinion of the 
populace call upon us to believe ? 


154 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“Before proceeding farther, let us consider the 
supposed scene of the assassination, in the thicket at 
the Barriere du Roule. This thicket, although dense, 
was in the close vicinity of a public road. Within 
were three or four large stones, forming a kind of seat, 
with a back and footstool. On the upper stone was 
discovered a white petticoat; on the second, a silk 
scarf. A parasol, gloves, and a pocket-handkerchief 
were also here found. The handkerchief bore the 
name, ‘ Marie Roget.’ Fragments of dress were seen 
on the branches around. The earth was trampled, 
the bushes were broken, and there was every evidence 
of a violent struggle. 

“ Notwithstanding the acclamation with which the 
discovery of this thicket was received by the press, 
and the unanimity with which it was supposed to in- 
dicate the precise scene of the outrage, it must be ad- 
mitted that there was some very good reason for 
doubt. That it was the scene, I may or I may not 
believe — but there was excellent reason for doubt. 
Had the true scene been, as Le Commerciel suggested, 
in the neighbourhood of the Rue Pavee St. Andree, 


MARIE ROGET 


155 


the perpetrators of this crime, supposing them still 
resident in Paris, would naturally have been stricken 
with terror at the public attention thus acutely direc- 
ted into the proper channel ; and, in certain classes of 
minds, there would have arisen at once, a sense of the 
necessity of some exertion to re-divert this attention. 
And thus, the thicket of the Barriere du Roule hav- 
ing been already suspected, the idea of placing the 
articles where they were found, might have been nat- 
urally entertained. There is no real evidence, al- 
though Le Soleil so supposes, that the articles dis- 
covered had been more than a very few days in the 
thicket ; while there is much circumstantial proof that 
they could not have remained there, without attract- 
ing attention, during the twenty days elapsing be- 
tween the fatal Sunday and the afternoon upon which 
they were found by the boys. ‘They were all mil- 
dewed down hard/ says Le Soleil , adopting the opin- 
ions of its predecessors, ‘ with the action of the rain 
and stuck together from mildew. The grass had 
grown around and over some of them. The silk of 
the parasol was strong, but the threads of it were run 


156 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


together within. The upper part, where it had been 
doubled and folded, was all mildewed and rotten, and 
tore on being opened.’ In respect to the grass hav- 
ing 4 grown around and over some of them,’ it is ob- 
vious that the fact could only have been ascertained 
from the words, and thus from the recollections, of 
two small boys; for these boys removed the articles 
and took them home before they had been seen by 
a third party. But grass will grow, especially in 
warm and damp weather (such as was that of the 
period of the murder), as much as two or three inches 
in a single day. A parasol, lying upon a newly turfed 
ground, might, in a single week, be entirely concealed 
from sight by the upspringing grass. And touching 
that mildew upon which the editor of Le Soleil so 
pertinaciously insists, that he employs the word no less 
than three times in the brief paragraph just quoted, 
is he really unaware of the nature of this mildew ? 
Is he to be told that it is one of the many classes 
of fungus, of which the most ordinary feature is 
its upspringing and decadence within twenty-four 
hours ? 


MARIE ROGET 


157 


“Thus we see, at a glance, that what has been 
most triumphantly adduced in support of the idea 
that the articles had been ‘ for at least three or four 
weeks ’ in the thicket is most absurdly null as regards 
any evidence of that fact. On the other hand, it is 
exceedingly difficult to believe that these articles 
could have remained in the thicket specified for a 
longer period than a single week — for a longer period 
than from one Sunday to the next. Those who know 
anything of the vicinity of Paris, know the extreme 
difficulty of finding seclusion , unless at a great dis- 
tance from its suburbs. Such a thing as an unex- 
plored or even an unfrequently visited recess, amid 
its woods or groves, is not for a moment to be im- 
agined. Let any one who, being at heart a lover of 
nature, is yet chained by duty to the dust and heat of 
this great metropolis — let any such one attempt, even 
during the week-days, to slake his thirst for solitude 
amid the scenes of natural loveliness which immedi- 
ately surround us. At every second step, he will find 
the growing charm dispelled by the voice and per- 
sonal intrusion of some ruffian or party of carousing 


158 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


blackguards. He will seek privacy amid the densest 
foliage, all in vain. Here are the very nooks where 
the unwashed most abound — here are the temples 
most desecrate. With sickness of the heart the wan- 
derer will flee back to the polluted Paris as to a less 
odious because less incongruous sink of pollution. 
But if the vicinity of the city is so beset during the 
working days of the week, how much more so on the 
Sabbath! It is now especially that, released from 
the claims of labour, or deprived of the customary op- 
portunities of crime, the town blackguard seeks the 
precincts of the town, not through love of the rural, 
which in his heart he despises, but by way of escape 
from the restraints and conventionalities of society. 
He desires less the fresh air and the green trees, than 
the utter license of the country. Here, at the road- 
side inn, or beneath the foliage of the woods, he in- 
dulges unchecked by any eye except those of his boon 
companions, in all the mad excess of a counterfeit 
hilarity — the joint offspring of liberty and of rum. 
I say nothing more than what must be obvious to 
every dispassionate observer, when I repeat that the 


MARIE ROGET 


159 


circumstance of the articles in question having re- 
mained undiscovered, for a longer period than from 
one Sunday to another, in any thicket in the im- 
mediate neighbourhood of Paris, is to be looked up- 
on as little less than miraculous. 

“ But there are not wanting other grounds for the 
suspicion that the articles were placed in the thicket 
with a view of diverting attention from the real scene 
of the outrage. And first, let me direct your notice 
to the date of the discovery of the articles. Collate 
this with the date of the fifth extract made by myself 
from the newspapers. You will find that the discov- 
ery followed, almost immediately, the urgent com- 
munications sent to the evening paper. These com- 
munications, although various, and apparently from 
various sources, tended all to the same point — viz., 
the directing of attention to a gang as the perpetrators 
of the outrage, and to the neighbourhood of the Bar- 
riere du Houle as its scene. Now here, of course, 
the situation is not that, in consequence of these com- 
munications, or of the public attention by them di- 
rected, the articles were found by the boys; but the 


160 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


suspicion might and may well have been that the ar- 
ticles were not before found by the boys, for the rea- 
son that the articles had not before been in the 
thicket; having been deposited there only at so late a 
period as at the date, or shortly prior to the date of 
the communications, by the guilty authors of these 
communications themselves. 

“This thicket was a singular — an exceedingly 
singular one. It was unusually dense. Within its 
naturally walled enclosure were three extraordinary 
stones, forming a seat with a back and footstool. And 
this thicket, so full of art, was in the immediate vicin- 
ity, within a few rods , of the dwelling of Madame 
Deluc, whose boys were in the habit of closely exam- 
ining the shrubberies about them in search of the bark 
of the sassafras. Would it be a rash wager — a wager 
of one thousand to one — that a day never passed over 
the heads of these boys without finding at least one of 
them esconced in the umbrageous hall, and enthroned 
upon its natural throne ? Those who would hesitate 
at such a wager, have either never been boys them- 
selves, or have forgotten the boyish nature. I repeat 


MARIE ROGET 


161 


— it is exceedingly hard to comprehend how the arti- 
cles could have remained in this thicket undiscovered, 
for a longer period than one or two days; and that 
thus there is good ground for suspicion, in spite of the 
dogmatic ignorance of Le Soleil , that they were, at a 
comparatively late date, deposited where found. 

4 

“ But there are still other and stronger reasons for 
believing them so deposited, than any which I have 
as yet urged. And, now, let me beg your notice to 
the highly artificial arrangement of the articles. On 
the upper stone lay a white petticoat ; on the second , a 
silk scarf; scattered around, were a parasol, gloves, 
and a pocket-handkerchief bearing the name , 4 Marie 
Roget.’ Here is just such an arrangement as would 
naturally be made by a not-over-acute person wishing 
to dispose the articles naturally. But it is by no 
means a really natural arrangement. I should rather 
have looked to see the things all lying on the ground 
and trampled under foot. In the narrow limits of 
that bower, it would have been scarcely possible that 
the petticoat and scarf should have retained a posi- 
tion on the stones, when subjected to the brushing to 


162 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


and fro of many struggling persons. 4 There was evi- 
dence,’ it is said, ‘of a struggle; and the earth was 
trampled, the bushes were broken,’ — but the petticoat 
and scarf are found deposited as if upon shelves. 
‘ The pieces of the frock torn out by the bushes were 
about three inches wide and six inches long. One 
part was the hem of the frock and it had been mended. 
They looked like strips torn off . 9 Here, inadvertently, 
Le Soleil has employed an exceedingly suspicious 
phrase. The pieces, as described, do indeed Took 
like strips torn off ’ ; but purposely and by hand. It is 
one of the rarest of accidents that a piece is ‘ torn off,’ 
from any garment such as is now in question, by the 
agency of a thorn. From the very nature of such 
fabrics, a thorn or nail becoming tangled in them, 
tears them rectangularly — divides them into two lon- 
gitudinal rents, at right angles with each other, and 
meeting at an apex where the thorn enters — but it is 
scarcely possible to conceive the piece ‘torn off.’ I 
never so knew it, nor did you. To tear a piece off 
from such fabric, two distinct forces, in different 
directions, will be, in almost every case, required. 


MARIE ROGET 


165 


If there be two edges to the fabric — if, for example, 
it be a pocket-handkerchief, and it is desired to tear 
from it a slip, then, and then only, will the one force 
serve the purpose. But in the present case, the ques- 
tion is of a dress, presenting but one edge. To tear a 
piece from the interior, where no edge is presented, 
could only be effected by a miracle through the agen- 
cy of thorns, and no one thorn could accomplish it. 
But, even where an edge is presented, two thorns will 
be necessary, operating, the one in two distinct direc- 
tions, and the other in one. And this is on the sup- 
position that the edge is unhemmed. If hemmed, the 
matter is nearly out of the question. We thus see 
the numerous and great obstacles in the way of pieces 
being 4 torn off ’ through the simple agency of 4 thorns ’ ; 
yet we are required to believe not only that one piece 
but that many have been so torn. ‘And one part,’ 
too, 4 was the hem of the frock 7 Another piece was 
‘part of the skirt , not the hem ’ — that is to say, was 
torn completely out, through the agency of thorns, 
from the unedged interior of the dress! These, I 
say, are things which one may well be pardoned for 


164 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


disbelieving; yet, taken collectively, they form, per- 
haps, less of reasonable ground for suspicion, than 
the one startling circumstance of the articles having 
been left in the thicket at all, by any murderers who 
had enough precaution to think of removing the 
corpse. You will not have apprehended me rightly, 
however, if you suppose it my design to deny this 
thicket as the scene of the outrage. There might 
have been a wrong here , or more possibly, an accident 
at Madame Deluc’s. But, in fact, this is a point 
of minor importance. We are not engaged in an 
attempt to discover the scene, but to produce the 
perpetrators of the murder. What I have adduced, 
notwithstanding the minuteness with which I have 
adduced it, has been with the view, first, to show the 
folly of the positive and headlong assertions of Le 
Soleil , but secondly and chiefly, to bring you, by 
the most natural route, to a further contemplation of 
the doubt whether this assassination has or has not 
been the work of a gang. 

“We will resume this question by mere allusion to 
the revolting details of the surgeon examined at the 


MARIE ROGET 


165 


inquest. It is only necessary to say that his published 
inferences , in regard to the number of the ruffians, 
have been properly ridiculed as unjust and totally 
baseless, by all the reputable anatomists of Paris. 
Not that the matter might not have been as inferred, 
but that there was no ground for the inference : — was 
there not much for another ? 

“ Let us reflect now upon ‘ the traces of a struggle 
and let me ask what these traces have been supposed 
to demonstrate. A gang. But do they not really 
demonstrate the absence of a gang ? What struggle 
could have taken place — what struggleso violent and 
so enduring as to have left its ‘ traces ’ in all directions 
— between a weak and defenceless girl and a gang of 
ruffians imagined ? The silent grasp of a few rough 
arms and all would have been over. The victim 
must have been absolutely passive at their will. You 
will here bear in mind that the arguments urged 
against the thicket as the scene, are applicable, in 
chief part, only against it as the scene of an outrage 
committed by more than a single individual. If we 
imagine but one violator, we can conceive, and thus 


166 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


only conceive, the struggle of so violent and so obsti- 
nate a nature as to have left the ‘ traces ’ apparent. 

“And again. I have already mentioned the sus- 
picion to be excited by the fact that the articles in 
question were suffered to remain at all in the thicket 
where discovered. It seems almost impossible that 
these evidences of guilt should have been accidentally 
left where found. There was sufficient presence of 
mind (it is supposed) to remove the corpse ; and yet a 
more positive evidence that the corpse itself (whose 
features might have been quickly obliterated by de- 
cay) is allowed to remain conspicuously in the scene 
of the outrage — I allude to the handkerchief with the 
name of the deceased. If this was accident, it was 
not the accident of a gang. We can imagine it only 
the accident of an individual. Let us see. An indi- 
vidual has committed the murder. He is alone with 
the ghost of the departed. He is appalled by what 
lies motionless before him. The fury of his passion 
is over, and there is abundant room in his heart for 
the natural awe of the deed. His is none of that con- 
fidence which the presence of numbers inevitably 


MARIE ROGET 


167 


inspires. He is alone with the dead. He trembles 
and is bewildered. Yet there is a necessity for dis- 
posing of the corpse. He bears it to the river, but 
leaves behind him the other evidences of guilt; 
for it is difficult, if not impossible, to carry all the bur- 
den at once, and it will be easy to return for what is 
left. But in his toilsome journey to the water his 
fears redouble within him. The sounds of life en- 
compass his path. A dozen times he hears or fan- 
cies he hears the step of an observer. Even the very 
lights from the city bewilder him. Yet, in time, and 
by long and frequent pauses of deep agony, he reaches 
the river’s brink, and disposes of his ghastly charge 
— perhaps through the medium of a boat. But now , 
what treasure does the world hold — what threat of 
vengeance could it hold out — which would have 
power to urge the return of that lonely murderer over 
that toilsome and perilous path, to the thicket and its 
blood-chilling recollections ? He returns not , let the 
consequences be what they may. He could not re- 
turn if he would. His sole thought is immediate 
escape. He turns his back forever upon those 


168 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

dreadful shrubberies, and flees as from the wrath 

to come. 

“ But how with a gang ? Their number would have 
inspired them with confidence; if, indeed, confidence 
is ever wanting in the breast of the arrant blackguard ; 
and of arrant blackguards alone are the supposed 
gangs ever constituted. Their number, I say, would 
have prevented the bewildering and unreasoning ter- 
ror which I have imagined to paralyse the single man. 
Could we suppose an oversight in one, or two, or 
three, this oversight would have been remedied by a 
fourth. They would have left nothing behind them ; 
for their number would have enabled them to carry 
all at once. There would have been no need of re- 
turn. 

“ Consider now the circumstance that, in the outer 
garment of the corpse when found, ‘a slip, about a 
foot wide, had been torn upward from the bottom 
hem to the waist, wound three times round the waist, 
and secured by a sort of hitch in the back.’ This was 
done with the obvious design of affording a handle 
by which to carry the body. But would any number 


MARIE ROGET 


169 


of men have dreamed of resorting to such an ex- 
pedient ? To three or four, the limbs of the corpse 
would have afforded not only a sufficient, but the best 
possible hold. The device is that of a single individ- 
ual ; and this brings us to the fact that ‘ between the 
thicket and the river the rails of the fences were found 
taken down, and the ground bore evident traces of 
some heavy burden having been dragged along it!’ 
But would a number of men have put themselves to 
the superfluous trouble of taking down a fence, for 
the purpose of dragging through it a corpse which 
they might have lifted over any fence in an instant ? 
Would a number of men have so dragged a corpse at 
all as to have left evident traces of the dragging ? 

“ And here we must refer to an observation of Le 
Commerciel; an observation upon which I have al- 
ready, in some measure, commented. ‘A piece,’ 
says this journal , 4 of one of the unfortunate girl’s pet- 
ticoats was torn out and tied under her chin, and 
around the back of her head, probably to prevent 
screams. This was done by fellows who had no 
pocket-handkerchiefs . ’ 


170 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“I have before suggested that a genuine black- 
guard is never without a pocket-handkerchief. But 
it is not to this fact that I now especially advert. 
That it was not through want of a handkerchief for 
the purpose imagined by Le Commerciel, that this 
bandage was employed, is rendered apparent by the 
handkerchief left in the thicket; and that the object 
was not 4 to prevent screams ’ appears, also, from the 
bandage having been employed in preference to what 
would so much better have answered the purpose. 
But the language of the evidence speaks of the strip 
in question as ‘ found around the neck, fitting loosely, 
and secured with a hard knot.’ These words are 
sufficiently vague, but differ materially from those of 
Le Commerciel. The slip was eighteen inches wide, 
and therefore, although of muslin, would form a 
strong band when folded or rumpled longitudinally. 
And thus rumpled it was discovered. My inference is 
this. The solitary murderer, having borne the corpse 
for some distance (whether from the thicket or else- 
where) by means of the bandage hitched around its 
middle, found the weight, in this mode of procedure, 


MARIE ROGET 


171 


too much for his strength. He resolved to drag the 
burden — the evidence goes to show that it was 
dragged. With this object in view, it became neces- 
sary to attach something like a rope to one of the ex- 
tremities. It could be best attached about the neck, 
where the head would prevent its slipping off. And 
now the murderer bethought him, unquestionably, of 
the bandage about the loins. He would have used 
this, but for its volution about the corpse, the hitch 
which embarrassed it, and the reflection that it had 
not been ‘ torn off * from the garment. It was easier to 
tear a new slip from the petticoat. He tore it, made 
it fast about the neck, and so dragged his victim to 
the brink of the river. That this ‘ bandage,’ only at- 
tainable with trouble and delay, and but imperfectly 
answering its purpose — that this bandage was em- 
ployed at all , demonstrates that the necessity for its 
employment sprang from circumstances arising at a 
period when the handkerchief was no longer attain- 
able — that is to say, arising, as we have imagined, 
after quitting the thicket (if the thicket it was), and 
on the road between the thicket and the river. 


172 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ But the evidence, you will say, of Madame De- 
luc (?) points especially to the presence of a gang in 
the vicinity of the thicket, at or about the epoch of the 
murder. This I grant. I doubt if there were not a 
dozen gangs, such as described by Madame Deluc, in 
and about the vicinity of the Barriere du Roule at or 
about the period of this tragedy. But the gang which 
has drawn upon itself the pointed animadversion, al- 
though the somewhat tardy and very suspicious evi- 
dence, of Madame Deluc, is the only gang which is 
represented by that honest and scrupulous old lady 
as having eaten her cakes and swallowed her brandy, 
without putting themselves to the trouble of making 
her payment. Et hinc illce irce ! 

“ But what is the precise evidence of Madame De- 
luc ? ‘ A gang of miscreants made their appearance, 
behaved boisterously, ate and drank without making 
payment, followed in the route of the young man and 
the girl, returned to the inn about dusk , and recrossed 
the river as if in great haste/ 

“Now this ‘great haste’ very possibly seemed 
greater haste in the eyes of Madame Deluc, since she 


MARIE ROGET 


173 


dwelt lingeringly and lamentably upon her violated 
cakes and ale — cakes and ale for which she might 
still have entertained a faint hope of compensation. 
Why, otherwise, since it was about dusk , should she 
make a point of the haste ? It is no cause for wonder, 
surely, that even a gang of blackguards should make 
haste to get home when a wide river is to be crossed 
in small boats, when storm impends, and when night 
approaches. 

“I say approaches ; for the night had not yet ar- 
rived. It was only about dusk that the indecent haste 
of these ‘ miscreants ’ offended the sober eyes of Ma- 
dame Deluc. But we are told that it was upon tins 
very evening that Madame Deluc, as well as her eld- 
est son, ‘ heard the screams of a female in the vicinity 
of the inn.’ And in what words does Madame Deluc 
designate the period of the evening at which these 
screams were heard? ‘It was soon after dark ,’ she 
says. But ‘soon after dark’ is, at least, dark; and 
‘ about dusk ’ is as certainly daylight. Thus it is abun- 
dantly clear that the gang quitted the Barriere du 
Roule prior to the screams overheard ( ?) by Madame 


174 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Deluc. And although, in all the many reports of the 
evidence, the relative expressions in question are dis- 
tinctly and invariably employed just as I have em- 
ployed them in this conversation with yourself, no 
notice whatever of the gross discrepancy has, as yet, 
been taken by any of the public journals, or by any of 
the myrmidons of police. 

“I shall add but one to the arguments against a 
gang ; but this one has, to my own understanding at 
least, a weight altogether irresistible. Under the 
circumstances of large reward offered, and full par- 
don to any king’s evidence, it is not to be imagined, 
for a moment, that some member of a gang of low 
ruffians, or of any body of men would not long ago 
have betrayed his accomplices. Each one of a gang, 
so placed, is not so much greedy of reward, or anxious 
for escape, as fearful of betrayal. He betrays eagerly 
and early that he may not himself be betrayed. That 
the secret has not been divulged is the very best of 
proof that it is, in fact, a secret. The horrors of this 
dark deed are known only to one , or two, living 
human beings, and to God. 


MARIE ROGET 


175 


“ Let us sum up now the meagre yet certain fruits 
of our long analysis. We have attained the idea of a 
fatal accident under the roof of Madame Deluc, or of 
a murder perpetrated, in the thicket at the Barriere 
du Roule, by a lover, or at least by an intimate and 
secret associate of the deceased. This associate is of 
swarthy complexion. This complexion, the ‘hitch’ 
in the bandage, and the ‘sailor’s knot’ with which 
the bonnet-ribbon is tied, point to a seaman. His 
companionship with the deceased — a gay but not an 
abject young girl — designates him as above the grade 
of a common sailor. Here the well-written and ur- 
gent communications to the journals are much in the 
way of corroboration. The circumstance of the first 
elopement, as mentioned by Le Mercurie , tends to 
blend the idea of this seaman with that of the ‘ naval 
officer ’ who is the first known to have led the unfor- 
tunate into crime. 

“ And here, most fitly, comes the consideration of 
the continued absence of him of the dark complex- 
ion. Let me pause to observe that the complexion 
of this man is dark and swarthy; it was no common 


176 MONSIEUR DUPUN 

swarthiness which constituted the sole point of re- 
membrance, both as regards Valence and Madame 
Deluc. But why is this man absent ? Was he mur- 
dered by the gang ? If so, why are there only traces 
of the assassinated girl? The scene of the two 
outrages will naturally be supposed identical. And 
where is his corpse? The assassins would most 
probably have disposed of both in the same way. But 
it may be said that this man lives, and is deterred 
from making himself known, through dread of 
being charged with the murder. This consideration 
might be supposed to operate upon him now — at this 
late period — since it has been given in evidence that 
he was seen with Marie, but it would have had no 
force at the period of the deed. The first impulse 
of an innocent man would have been to announce 
the outrage, and to aid in identifying the ruffians. 
This 'policy would have suggested. He had been seen 
with the girl. He had crossed the river with her in 
an open ferryboat. The denouncing of the assassins 
would have appeared, even to an idiot, the surest and 
sole means of relieving himself from suspicion. We 


MARIE ROGET 


177 


cannot suppose him, on the night of the fatal Sunday, 
both innocent himself and incognizant of an outrage 
committed. Yet only under such circumstances is 
it possible to imagine that he would have failed if 
alive, in the denouncement of the assassins. 

“ And what means are ours of attaining the truth ? 
We shall find these means multiplying and gathering 
distinctness as we proceed. Let us sift to the bottom 
this affair of the first elopement. Let us know the 
full history of 4 the officer,’ with his present circum- 
stances, and his whereabouts at the precise period of 
the murder. Let us carefully compare with each 
other the various communications sent to the evening 
paper, in which the object was to inculpate a gang. 
This done, let us compare these communications, 
both as regards style and MS., with those sent 
to the morning paper, at a previous period, and in- 
sisting so vehemently upon the guilt of Mennais. 
And, all this done, let us again compare these vari- 
ous communications with the known MSS. of the 
officer. Let us endeavour to ascertain, by repeated 
questioning of Madame Deluc and her boys, as well 


178 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


as of the omnibus driver, Valence, something more of 
the personal appearance and bearing of the ‘ man of 
dark complexion.’ Queries skilfully directed will not 
fail to elicit, from some of these parties, informa- 
tion on this particular point (or upon others) — infor- 
mation which the parties themselves may not even be 
aware of possessing. And let us now trace the boat 
picked up by the bargeman on the morning of Mon- 
day, the twenty-third of June, and which was removed 
from the barge-office, without the cognizance of the 
officer in attendance, and without the rudder , at some 
period prior to the discovery of the corpse. With a 
proper caution and perseverance we shall infallibly 
trace this boat; for not only can the bargeman who 
picked it up identify it, but the rudder is at hand. The 
rudder of a sail boat would not have been abandoned, 
without inquiry, by one altogether at ease in heart. 
And here let me pause to insinuate a question. There 
was no advertisement of the picking up of this boat. 
It was silently taken to the barge-office, and as silently 
removed. But its owner or employer — how happened 
he, at so early a period as Tuesday morning, to be 


MARIE ROGET 


179 


informed, without the agency of advertisement, of the 
locality of the boat taken up on Monday, unless we 
imagine some connection with the navy — some per- 
sonal, permanent connection leading to a cognizance 
of its minute interests — its petty local news ? 

“In speaking of the lonely assassin dragging his 
burden to the shore, I have already suggested the 
probability of his availing himself of a boat. Now 
we are to understand that Marie Roget was precipi- 
tated from a boat. This would naturally have been 
the case. The corpse could not have been trusted to 
the shallow waters of the shore. The peculiar marks 
on the back and shoulders of the victim tell of 
the bottom ribs of a boat. That the body was found 
without weight was also corroborative of the idea. If 
thrown from the shore a weight would have been at- 
tached. We can only account for its absence by sup- 
posing the murderer to have neglected the precaution 
of supplying himself with it before pushing off. In 
the act of consigning the corpse to the water, he would 
unquestionably have noticed his oversight; but then 
no remedy would have been at hand. Any risk 


180 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


would have been preferred to a return to that ac- 
cursed shore. Having rid himself of his ghastly 
charge, the murderer would have hastened to the city. 
There, at some obscure wharf, he would have leaped 
on land. But the boat — would he have secured it ? 
He would have been in too great haste for such things 
as securing a boat. Moreover, in fastening it to the 
wharf, he would have felt as if securing evidence 
against himself. His natural thought would have 
been to cast from him, as far as possible, all that had 
held connection with his crime. He would not only 
have fled from the wharf, but he would not have per- 
mitted the boat to remain. Assuredly he would have 
cast it adrift. Let us pursue our fancies. — In the 
morning, the wretch is stricken with unutterable hor- 
ror at finding that the boat has been picked up and 
detained at a locality which he is in the daily habit of 
frequenting — at a locality, perhaps, which his duty 
compels him to frequent. The next night, without 
daring to ask for a rudder , he removes it. Now where 
is that rudderless boat ? Let it be one of our first pur- 
poses to discover. With the first glimpse we obtain 



t » 


NOW 


WHERE 


I S 


THAT 


RUDDERLESS BOAT?’’ 





































































































































MARIE ROGET 


181 


of it, the dawn of our success shall begin. This 
boat shall guide us, with a rapidity which will sur- 
prise even ourselves, to him who employed it in the 
mid-night of the fatal Sabbath. Corroboration will 
rise upon corroboration, and the murderer will be 
traced.” 

[For reasons which we will not specify, but which 
to many readers will appear obvious, we have taken 
the liberty of here omitting from the MSS. placed 
in our hands, such portion as details the follow- 
ing up of the apparently slight clue obtained by Du- 
pin. We feel it advisable only to state, in brief, that 
the result desired was brought to pass; and that the 
Prefect fulfilled punctually, although with reluctance, 
the terms of his compact with the Chevalier. Mr. 
Poe’s article concludes with the following words. 
Eds*] 

It will be understood that I speak of coincidences 
and no more. What I have said above upon this 
topic must suffice. In my own heart there dwells no 
faith in preter-nature. That Nature and its God are 
* Of Snowden’s “ Lady’s Companion.” 


182 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


two, no man who thinks will deny. That the latter, 
creating the former, can, at will, control or modify 
it, is also unquestionable. I say “ at will ; ” for the 
question is of will, and not, as the insanity of logic 
has assumed, of power. It is not that the Deity 
cannot modify His laws, but that we insult Him in 
imagining a possible necessity for modification. In 
their origin these laws were fashioned to embrace all 
contingencies which could lie in the Future. With 
God all is Now. 

I repeat, then, that I speak of these things only as 
of coincidences. And further: in what I relate it will 
be seen that between the fate of the unhappy Mary 
Cecilia Rogers, so far as that fate is known, and the 
fate of one Marie Roget up to a certain epoch in her 
history, there has existed a parallel in the contempla- 
tion of' whose wonderful exactitude the reason be- 
comes embarrassed. I say all this will be seen. But 
let it not for a moment be supposed that, in proceeding 
with the sad narrative of Marie from the epoch just 
mentioned, and in tracing to its denouement the mys- 
tery which enshrouded hei^ it is my covert design to 


MARIE ROGET 


183 


hint at an extension of the parallel, or even to suggest 
that the measures adopted in Paris for the discovery 
of the assassin of a grisette, or measures founded 
in any similar ratiocination, would produce any 
similar result. 

For, in respect to the latter branch of the supposi- 
tion, it should be considered that the most trifling va- 
riation in the facts of the two cases might give rise to 
the most important miscalculations, by diverting thor- 
oughly the two courses of events; very much as, in 
arithmetic, an error which, in its own individuality, 
may be inappreciable, produces, at length, by dint of 
multiplication at all points of the process, a result 
enormously at variance with truth. And, in regard to 
the former branch, we must not fail to hold in view 
that the very Calculus of Probabilities to which I 
have referred, forbids all idea of the extension of the 
parallel — forbids it with a positiveness strong and 
decided just in proportion as this parallel has already 
been long-drawn and exact. This is one of those 
anomalous propositions which, seemingly appealing 
to thought altogether apart from the mathematical. 


184 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


is yet one which only the mathematician can fully en- 
tertain. Nothing, for example, is more difficult, than 
to convince the merely general reader that the fact of 
sixes having been thrown twice in succession by a 
player at dice is sufficient cause for betting the larg- 
est odds that sixes will not be thrown in the third 
attempt. A suggestion to this effect is usually re- 
jected by the intellect at once. It does not appear 
that the two throws which have been completed, 
and which lie now absolutely in the Past, can have in- 
fluence upon the throw which exists only in the Fu- 
ture. The chance for throwing sixes seems to be 
precisely as it was at any ordinary time — that is to 
say, subject only to the influence of the various other 
throws which may be made by the dice. And this is 
a reflection which appears so exceedingly obvious 
that attempts to controvert it are received more fre- 
quently with a derisive smile than with anything like 
respectful attention. The error here involved — a 
gross error redolent of mischief — I cannot pretend to 
expose within the limits assigned me at present; and 
with the philosophical it needs no exposure. It may 


MARIE ROGET 


185 


be sufficient here to say that it forms one of an in- 
finite series of mistakes which arise in the path of 
Reason through her propensity for seeking truth in 
detail. 








THE PURLOINED LETTER 


V 


THE 

PURLOINED LETTER 


Nil sapientice odiosius acumine nimio. 

SENECA 

At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in the 
autumn of 18 — , I was enjoying the twofold luxury of 
meditation and a meerschaum, in company with my 
friend, C. Auguste Dupin, in his little back library, or 
book-closet, au troisieme , No. 33 Rue Dundt , Fau- 
bourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we had 
maintained a profound silence ; while each, to any cas- 
ual observer, might have seemed intently and exclu- 
sively occupied with the curling eddies of smoke that 
oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber. For my- 
self, however, I was mentally discussing certain topics 
which had formed matter for conversation between 
us at an earlier period of the evening; I mean the 


190 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


affair of the Rue Morgue, and the mystery attending 
the murder of Marie Roget. I looked upon it, there- 
fore, as something of a coincidence, when the door of 
our apartment was thrown open and admitted our old 
acquaintance, Monsieur G — , the Prefect of the 
Parisian police. 

We gave him a hearty welcome; for there was near- 
ly half as much of the entertaining as of the contemp- 
tible about the man, and we had not seen him for sev- 
eral years. We had been sitting in the dark, and Du- 
pin now arose for the purpose of lighting a lamp, but 
sat down again, without doing so, upon G.’s saying 
that he had called to consult us, or rather to ask the 
opinion of my friend, about some official business 
which had occasioned a great deal of trouble. 

“ If it is any point requiring reflection,” observed 
Dupin, as he forebore to enkindle the wick, “ we shall 
examine it to better purpose in the dark.” 

“That is another of your odd notions,” said the 
Prefect, who had the fashion of calling everything 
“ odd ” that was beyond his comprehension, and thus 
lived amid an absolute legion of “ oddities.” 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 191 

“Very true,” said Dupin, “as he supplied his visi- 
tor with a pipe, and rolled toward him a comfortable 
chair. 

“ And what is the difficulty now ? ” I asked. “ Noth- 
ing more in the assassination way I hope P ” 

“ Oh, no; nothing of that nature. The fact is, the 
business is very simple indeed, and I make no doubt 
that we can manage it sufficiently well ourselves ; but 
then I thought Dupin would like to hear the details of 
it, because it is so excessively odd.” 

“ Simple and odd,” said Dupin. 

“ Why, yes ; and not exactly that either. The fact 
is, we have all been a good deal puzzled because the 
affair is so simple, and yet baffles us altogether.” 

“ Perhaps it is the very simplicity of the thing which 
puts you at fault,” said my friend. 

“ What nonsense you do talk ! ” replied the Prefect, 
laughing heartily. 

“Perhaps the mystery is a little too plain,” said 
Dupin. 

“Oh, good heavens! who ever heard of such an 
idea?” 


192 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ A little too self-evident.” 

“Ha! ha! ha! — ha! ha! ha! — ho! ho! ho!” roared 
our visitor, profoundly amused; “ oh, Dupin, you will 
be the death of me yet ! ” 

“And what, after all, is the matter on hand?” I 
asked. 

“ Why, I will tell you,” replied the Prefect, as he 
gave a long, steady, and contemplative puff, and set- 
tled himself in his chair. “I will tell you in a few 
words; but, before I begin, let me caution you that 
this is an affair demanding the greatest secrecy, and 
that I should most probably lose the position I now 
hold, were it known that I confided it to any one.” 

“ Proceed,” said I. 

“ Or not,” said Dupin. 

“ Well, then; I have received personal information, 
from a very high quarter, that a certain document of 
the last importance has been purloined from the 
royal apartments. The individual who purloined it 
is known ; this beyond a doubt ; he was seen to take it. 
It is known, also, that it still remains in his posses- 
sion.” 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 193 

“ How is this known ? ” asked Dupin. 

“It is clearly inferred,” replied the Prefect, “from 
the nature of the document, and from the non-appear- 
ance of certain results which would at once arise from 
its passing out of the robber’s possession; that is to 
say, from his employing it as he must design in the 
end to employ it.” 

“ Be a little more explicit,” I said. 

“ Well, I may venture so far as to say that the 
paper gives its holder a certain power in a certain 
quarter where such power is immensely valuable.” 
The Prefect was fond of the cant of diplomacy. 

“ Still I do not quite understand,” said Dupin. 

“No ? Well; the disclosure of the document to a 
third person, who shall be nameless, would bring in 
question the honour of a personage of most exalted 
station; and this fact gives the holder of the docu- 
ment an ascendency over the illustrious personage 
whose honour and peace are so jeopardized.” 

“But this ascendency,” I interposed, “would de- 
pend upon the robber’s knowledge of the loser’s 
knowledge of the robber. Who would dare — ” 


194 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“The thief,” said G., “ is the Minister D — , who 
dares all things, those unbecoming as well as those 
becoming a man. The method of the theft was not 
less ingenious than bold. The document in ques- 
tion — a letter, to be frank — had been received by the 
personage robbed while alone in the royal boudoir. 
During its perusal she was suddenly interrupted by 
the entrance of the other exalted personage from 
whom especially it was her wish to conceal it. After 
a hurried and vain endeavour to thrust it in a drawer, 
she was forced to place it, open as it was, upon a table. 
The address, however, was uppermost, and, the con- 
tents thus unexposed, the letter escaped notice. At 
this juncture enters the Minister D — . His lynx 
eye immediately perceives the paper, recognizes the 
handwriting of the address, observes the confusion of 
the personage addressed, and fathoms her secret. 
After some business transactions, hurried through in 
his ordinary manner, he produces a letter somewhat 
similar to the one in question, opens it, pretends to 
read it, and then places it in close juxtaposition to 
the other. Again he converses, for some fifteen 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 195 

minutes, upon the public affairs. At length, in taking 
leave, he takes also from the table the letter to which 
he had no claim. Its rightful owner saw, but, of 
course, dared not call attention to, the act, in the 
presence of the third personage who stood at her 
elbow. The Minister decamped, leaving his own 
letter — one of no importance — upon the table.” 

“Here, then,” said Dupin to me, “you have pre- 
cisely what you demand to make the ascendency 
complete — the robber’s knowledge of the loser’s 
knowledge of the robber.” 

“Yes,” replied the Prefect; “and the power thus 
attained has, for some months past, been wielded, 
for political purposes, to a very dangerous extent. 
The personage robbed is more thoroughly convinced, 
every day, of the necessity of reclaiming her letter. 
But this, of course, cannot be done openly. In fine, 
driven to despair, she has committed the matter to 
me.” 

“ Than whom,” said Dupin, amid a perfect whirl- 
wind of smoke, “no more sagacious agent could, I 
suppose, be desired, or even imagined.” 


196 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“You flatter me,” replied the Prefect; “but it is 
possible that some such opinion may have been en- 
tertained.” 

“ It is clear,” said I, “ as you observe, that the letter 
is still in the possession of the Minister; since it is this 
possession, and not any employment of the letter, 
which bestows the power. With the employment 
the power departs.” 

“ True,” said G — ., “and upon this conviction I pro- 
ceeded. My first care was to make thorough search 
of the Minister’s Hotel ; and here my chief embarrass- 
ment lay in the necessity of searching without his 
knowledge. Beyond all things, I have been warned 
of the danger which would result from giving him 
reason to suspect our design.” 

“But,” said I, “you are quite au fait in these in- 
vestigations. The Parisian police have done this 
thing often before.” 

“Oh, yes; and for this reason I did not despair. 
The habits of the Minister gave me, too, a great ad- 
vantage. He is frequently absent from home all 
night. His servants are by no means numerous. 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 197 

They sleep at a distance from, their master’s apart- 
ment, and, being chiefly Neapolitans, are readily 
made drunk. I have keys, as you know, with which 
I can open any chamber or cabinet in Paris. For 
three months a night has not passed, during the 
greater part of which I have not been engaged per- 
sonally, in ransacking the D — Hotel. My honour 
is interested, and, to mention a great secret, the re- 
ward is enormous. So I did not abandon the search 
until I had become fully satisfied that the thief is a 
more astute man than myself. I fancy that I have 
investigated every nook and corner of the prem- 
ises in which it is possible that the paper can be con- 
cealed.” 

“But is it not possible,” I suggested, “that al- 
though the letter may be in possession of the Minister, 
as it unquestionably is, he may have concealed it else- 
where than upon his own premises ? ” 

“This is barely possible,” said Dupin. “The 
present peculiar condition of affairs at court, and es- 
pecially of those intrigues in which D — is known 
to be involved, would render the instant availability 


198 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


of the document — its susceptibility of being produced 
at a moment’s notice — a point of nearly equal impor- 
tance with its possession.” 

“ Its susceptibility of being produced ? ” said I. 

“ That is to say, of being destroyed ,” said Dupin. 

“ True,” I observed; “ the paper is clearly then up- 
on the premises. As for its being upon the person of 
the Minister, we may consider that as out of the ques- 
tion.” 

“ Entirely,” said the Prefect. “ He has been twice 
waylaid, as if by footpads, and his person rigidly 
searched under my own inspection.” 

“You might have spared yourself this trouble,” 
said Dupin. “ D — , I presume, is not altogether a 
fool, and, if not, must have anticipated these waylay- 
ings, as a matter of course.” 

“Not altogether a fool,” said G — , “but then he 
is a poet, which I take to be only one remove from 
a fool.” 

“True,” said Dupin, after a long and thoughtful 
whiff from his meerschaum, “ although I have been 
guilty of certain doggerel myself.” 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 199 

“Suppose you detail,” said I, “the particulars of 
your search.” 

“Why, the fact is, we took our time, and we 
searched everywhere. I have had long experience 
in these affairs. I took the entire building, room by 
room; devoting the nights of a whole week to each. 
We examined, first, the furniture of each apartment. 
We opened every possible drawer, and I presume you 
know that, to a properly trained police-agent, such a 
thing as a secret drawer is impossible. Any man is 
a dolt who permits a ‘ secret ’ drawer to escape him in 
a search of this kind. The thing is so plain. There 
is a certain amount of bulk — of space — to be ac- 
counted for in every cabinet. Then we have accurate 
rules. The fiftieth part of a line could not escape us. 
After the cabinets we took the chairs. The cushions 
we probed with the fine long needles you have seen 
me employ. From the tables we removed the tops.” 

“Why so?” 

“ Sometimes the top of a table, or other similarly 
arranged piece of furniture, is removed by the per- 
son wishing to conceal an article; then the leg is 


200 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


excavated, the article deposited within the cavity, 
and the top replaced. The bottoms and tops of 
bedposts are employed in the same way.” 

“But could not the cavity be detected by sound- 
ing ? ” I asked. 

“ By no means, if, when the article is deposited, a 
sufficient wadding of cotton be placed around it. Be- 
sides, in our case, we were obliged to proceed with- 
out noise.” 

“ But you could not have removed — you could not 
have taken to pieces all articles of furniture in which 
it would have been possible to make a deposit in the 
manner you mention. A letter may be compressed 
into a thin spiral roll, not differing much in shape or 
bulk from a large knitting-needle, and in this form it 
might be inserted into the rung of a chair, for exam- 
ple. You did not take to pieces all the chairs ? ” 

“ Certainly not ; but we did better — we examined 
the rungs of every chair in the Hotel, and, indeed, the 
jointings of every description of furniture, by the aid 
of a most powerful microscope. Had there been any 
traces of recent disturbance we should not have failed 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 


201 


to detect it instantly. A single grain of gimlet dust, 
for example, would have been as obvious as an apple. 
Any disorder in the gluing — any unusual gaping in 
the joints — would have sufficed to insure detection.” 

“I presume you looked to the mirrors, between 
the boards and the plates, and you probed the 
beds and the bedclothes, as well as the curtains and 
carpets.” 

“ That, of course ; and when we had absolutely com- 
pleted every particle of the furniture in this way, then 
we examined the house itself. We divided its entire 
surface into compartments, which we numbered, so 
that none might be missed ; then we scrutinized each 
individual square inch throughout the premises,, in- 
cluding the two houses immediately adjoining, with 
the microscope, as before.” 

“The two houses adjoining!” I exclaimed; “you 
must have had a great deal of trouble.” 

“We had; but the reward offered is prodigious.” 

“ You include the grounds about the houses ? ” 

“All the grounds are paved with brick. They 
gave us comparatively little trouble. We examined 


202 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

the moss between the bricks, and found it undis- 
turbed.” 

“You looked among D — ’s papers of course, 
and into the books of the library ? ” 

“Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; 
we not only opened every book, but we turned over 
every leaf in each volume, not contenting ourselves 
with a mere shake, according to the fashion of some of 
our police officers. We also measured the thickness 
of every book -cover, with the most accurate admeas- 
urement, and applied to each the most jealous scru- 
tiny of the microscope. Had any of the bindings 
been recently meddled with, it would have been utter- 
ly impossible that the fact should have escaped ob- 
servation. Some five or six volumes, just from the 
hands of the binder, we carefully probed, longitu- 
dinally, with the needles.” 

“You explored the floors beneath the carpets ?" 

“Beyond doubt. We removed every carpet, and 
examined the boards with the microscope.” 

“ And the paper on the walls ? 99 

“Yes.” 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 203 

“ You looked into the cellars ? ” 

“We did.” 

“Then,” I said, “you have been making a miscal- 
culation, and the letter is not upon the premises, as 
you suppose.” 

“I fear you are right there,” said the Prefect. 
“And now, Dupin, what would you advise me 
to do?” 

“To make a thorough research of the premises.” 

“That is absolutely needless,” replied G — . “I 
am not more sure that I breathe than I am that the 
letter is not at the hotel.” 

“ I have no better advice to give you,” said Dupin. 
“You have, of course, an accurate description of the 
letter ? ” 

“Oh, yes!” — And here the Prefect producing a 
memorandum book, proceeded to read aloud a min- 
ute account of the internal, and especially of the ex- 
ternal appearance of the missing document. Soon 
after finishing the perusal of this description, he took 
his departure, more entirely depressed in spirits than 
I had ever known the good gentleman before. 


204 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


In about a month afterward he paid us another 
visit, and found us occupied very nearly as before. 
He took a pipe and a chair and entered into some or- 
dinary conversation. At length I said, — 

“Well, but G — , what of the purloined letter? 
I presume you have at last made up your mind that 
there is no such thing as overreaching the Minister ? ” 
“ Confound him, say I — yes ; I made the re-exami- 
nation, however, as Dupin suggested — but it was all 
labour lost, as I knew it would be.” 

“ How much was the reward offered, did you say ? ’’ 
asked Dupin. 

“ Why, a very great deal — a very liberal reward — 
I don’t like to say how much, precisely ; but one thing 
I will say, that I wouldn’t mind giving my individual 
check for fifty thousand francs to any one who could 
obtain me that letter. The fact is, it is becoming of 
more and more importance every day; and the reward 
has been lately doubled. If it were trebled, however, 
I could do no more than I have done.” 

“Why, yes,” said Dupin, drawlingly between the 
whiffs of his meerschaum, “I really — think, G — , 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 205 

you have not exerted yourself — to the utmost in this 
matter. You might — do a little more, I think, eh ? ’’ 

“ How ? — in what way ? ” 

“ Why — puff, puff — you might — puff, puff — 
employ counsel in the matter, eh ? — puff, puff, 
puff. Do you remember the story they tell of 
Abernethy ? ” 

“ No ; hang Abernethy ! ” 

“To be sure! hang him and welcome. But, once 
upon a time, a certain rich miser conceived the design 
of sponging upon this Abernethy for a medical opin- 
ion. Getting up, for this purpose, an ordinary con- 
versation in a private company, he insinuated his 
case to the physician, as that of an imaginary in- 
dividual. 

“ ‘ We will suppose,’ said the miser, ‘ that his symp- 
toms are such and such ; now, doctor, what would you 
have directed him to take ? ” 

“ ‘ Take ! ’ said Abernethy, ‘ why, take advice , to be 
sure. ’ ” 

“ But,” said the Prefect, “ a little discomposed, “ I 
am perfectly willing to take advice, and to pay for it. 


206 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


I would really give fifty thousand francs to any one 
who would aid me in the matter.” 

“In that case,” replied Dupin, opening a drawer 
and producing a check-book, “you may as well fill 
me up a check for the amount mentioned. When 
you have signed it, I will hand you the letter.” 

I was astounded. The Prefect appeared abso- 
lutely thunder-stricken. For some minutes he re- 
mained speechless and motionless, looking incredu 
lously at my friend with open mouth, and eyes that 
seemed starting from their sockets; then apparently 
recovering himself in some measure, he seized a pen, 
and after several pauses and vacant stares, finally 
filled up and signed a check for fifty thousand francs, 
and handed it across the table to Dupin. The latter 
examined it carefully and deposited it in his pocket- 
book; then, unlocking an escritoire, took thence a let- 
ter and gave it to the Prefect. This functionary 
grasped it in a perfect agony of joy, opened it with a 
trembling hand, cast a rapid glance at its contents, 
and then scrambling and struggling to the door, 
rushed at length unceremoniously from the room and 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 207 

from the house, without having uttered a syllable 
since Dupin had requested him to fill up the check. 

When he had gone, my friend entered into some 
explanations. 

“The Parisian police,” he said, “are exceedingly 
able in their way. They are persevering, ingenious, 
cunning, and thoroughly versed in the knowledge 
which their duties seem chiefly to demand. Thus, 
when G — detailed to us his mode of searching the 
premises at the Hotel D — , I felt entire confidence 
in his having made a satisfactory investigation — so 
far as his labours extended.” 

“ So far as his labours extended ? ” said I. 

“ Yes,” said Dupin. “ The measures adopted were 
not only the best of their kind, but carried out to ab- 
solute perfection. Had the letter been deposited 
within the range of their search, these fellows would 
beyond a question, have found it.” 

I merely laughed — but he seemed quite serious in 
all that he said. 

“ The measures, then,” he continued, “ were good 
in their kind, and well executed; their defect lay in 


208 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


their being inapplicable to the case and to the man. A 
certain set of highly ingenious resources are, with the 
Prefect, a sort of Procrustean bed, to which he forci- 
bly adapts his designs. But he perpetually errs by 
being too deep or too shallow, for the matter in hand ; 
and many a school-boy is a better reasoner than he. 
I knew one about eight years of age, whose success at 
guessing in the game of ‘even and odd’ attracted uni- 
versal admiration. This game is simple, and is 
played with marbles. One player holds in his hand 
a number of these toys, and demands of another 
whether that number is even or odd. If the guess is 
right, the guesser wins one; if wrong, he loses one. 
The boy to whom I allude won all the marbles of the 
school. Of course he had some principle of guessing ; 
and this lay in mere observation and admeasurement 
of the astuteness of. his opponents. For example, an 
arrant simpleton is his opponent, and, holding up his 
closed hand, asks, ‘ are they even or odd ? ’ Our 
school-boy replies ‘Odd/ and loses; but upon the 
second trial he wins, for he then says to himself : ‘ The 
simpleton had them even upon the first trial, and his 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 209 

amount of cunning is just sufficient to make him have 
them odd upon the second ; I will therefore guess odd,’ 
— he guesses odd, and wins. Now, with a simpleton 
a degree above the first, he would have reasoned thus : 
‘ This fellow finds that in the first instance I guessed 
odd, and, in the second, he will propose to himself, 
upon the first impulse, a simple variation from even 
to odd, as did the first simpleton; but then a second 
thought will suggest that this is too simple a variation, 
and finally he will decide upon putting it even as be- 
fore. I will, therefore, guess even ; ’ — he guesses even, 
and wins. Now this mode of reasoning in the school- 
boy, whom his fellows termed ‘ lucky,’ — what, in its 
last analysis, is it ? ” 

“It is merely,” I said, “an identification of the 
reasoner’s intellect with that of his opponent.” 

“It is,” said Dupin; “and upon inquiring of the 
boy by what means he effected the thorough identifi- 
cation in which his success consisted, I received an- 
swer as follows : 4 When I wish to find out how wise, 

or how stupid, or how good, or how wicked is any one 
or what are his thoughts at the moment, I fashion the 


210 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


expression of my face, as accurately as possible, in ac- 
cordance with the expression of his, and then wait to 
see what thoughts or sentiments arise in my mind or 
heart, as if to match or correspond with the expres- 
sion.’ This response of the school-boy lies at the 
bottom of all the spurious profundity which has been 
attributed to Rochefoucault, to La Bruyere, to Ma- 
chiavelli, and to Campanella.” 

“And the identification,” I said, “of the reasoner’s 
intellect with that of his opponent, depends, if I under- 
stand you aright, upon the accuracy with which the 
opponent’s intellect is admeasured.” 

“For its practical value it depends upon this,” 
replied Dupin ; “ and the Prefect and his cohort fail so 
frequently, first by default of this identification, and, 
secondly, by ill-admeasurement, or rather through 
non-admeasurement, of the intellect with which they 
are engaged. They consider only their own ideas of 
ingenuity; and, in searching for anything hidden, ad- 
vert only to the modes in which they would have hid- 
den it. They are right in this much — that their own 
ingenuity is a faithful representative of that of the 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 211 

mass; but when the cunning of the individual felon is 
diverse in character from their own, the felon foils 
them, of course. This always happens when it is 
above their own, and very usually when it is below. 
They have no variation of principle in their investiga- 
tions ; at best, when urged by some unusual emergency 
— by some extraordinary reward — they extend or 
exaggerate their old modes of practise , without touch- 
ing their principles. What, for example, in this case 
of D — , has been done to vary the principle of action ? 
What is all this boring, and probing, and sounding, 
and scrutinizing with the microscope, and dividing 
the surface of the building into registered square 
inches — what is it all but an exaggeration of the 
application of the one principle or set of principles 
of search, which are based upon the one set of notions 
regarding human ingenuity, to which the Prefect, in 
the long routine of his duty, has been accustomed? 
Do you not see that he has taken it for granted that 
all men proceed to conceal a letter — not exactly in a 
gimlet hole bored in a chair leg, but, at least, in some 
out-of-the-way hole or corner suggested by the same 


212 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


tenor of thought which would urge a man to secrete a 
letter in a gimlet hole bored in a chair leg ? And do 
you not see also that such recherche nooks for con- 
cealment are adapted only for ordinary occasions, 
and would be adopted only by ordinary intellects ; for, 
in all cases of concealment, a disposal of the article 
concealed — a disposal of it in this recherche manner 
— is, in the very first instance, presumable and pre- 
sumed; and thus its discovery depends, not at all up- 
on the acumen, but altogether upon the mere care, 
patience, and determination of the seekers ; and where 
the case is of importance — or, what amounts to the 
same thing in the policial eyes, when the reward is 
of magnitude — the qualities in question have never 
been known to fail. You will now understand what 
I meant in suggesting that, had the purloined letter 
been hidden anywhere within the limits of the Pre- 
fect’s examination — in other words, had the principle 
of its concealment been comprehended within the 
principles of the Prefect — its discovery would have 
been a matter altogether beyond question. This 
functionary, however, has been thoroughly mystified ; 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 213 

and the remote source of his defeat lies in the supposi- 
tion that the Minister is a fool, because he has ac- 
quired renown as a poet. All fools are poets; this 
the Prefect feels; and he is merely guilty of a non 
distributio medii in thence inferring that all poets 
are fools.” 

“But is this really the poet?” I asked. “There 
are two brothers, I know; and both have attained 
reputation in letters. The Minister, I believe, has 
written learnedly on the Differential Calculus. He 
is a mathematician, and no poet.” 

“You are mistaken; I know him well; he is both. 
As poet and mathematician, he would reason well; 
as mere mathematician, he could not have reasoned 
at all, and thus would have been at the mercy of the 
Prefect.” 

“You surprise me,” I said, “by these opinions, 
which have been contradicted by the voice of the 
world. You do not mean to set at naught the 
well-digested idea of centuries. The mathematical 
reason has long been regarded as the reason par 
excellence .” 


214 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ ‘ Il-y a parier , ’ 99 replied Dupin, quoting from 
Chamfort, “ ‘ que toute idee publique, toute convention 
reque, est une sottise , car elle a convenue au plus grand 
nornbre 9 The mathematicians, I grant you, have 
done their best to promulgate the popular error to 
which you allude, and which is none the less an error 
for its promulgation as truth. With an art worthy a 
better cause, for example, they have insinuated the 
term ‘analysis’ into application to algebra. The 
French are the originators of this particular decep- 
tion ; but if a term is of any importance — if words de- 
rive any value from applicability — then ‘analysis’ 
conveys ‘ algebra ’ about as much as, in Latin, ‘ ambi- 
tus' implies ‘ambition,’ ‘ religio' ‘religion,’ or ‘ hom- 
ines hoinesti ’ a set of honourable men.” 

“ You have a quarrel on hand, I see,” said I, “ with 
some of the algebraists of Paris; but proceed.” 

“ I dispute the availability, and thus the value, of 
that reason which is cultivated in any especial form 
other than the abstractly logical. I dispute, in par- 
ticular, the reason adduced by mathematical study. 
The mathematics are the science of form and quan- 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 215 

tity; mathematical reasoning is merely logic applied 
to observation upon form and quantity. The great 
error lies in supposing that even the truths of what is 
called pure algebra are abstract or general truths. 
And this error is so egregious that I am confounded 
at the universality with which it has been received. 
Mathematical axioms are not axioms of general truth. 
What is true of relation — of form and quantity — is 
often grossly false in regard to morals, for example. 
In this latter science it is very usually wntrue that the 
aggregated parts are equal to the whole. In chem- 
istry, also, the axiom fails. In the consideration of 
motive it fails; for two motives, each of a given value 
have not, necessarily, a value when united, equal to 
the sum of their values apart. There are numerous 
other mathematical truths which are only truths 
within the limits of relation. But the mathematician 
argues from his finite truths , through habit, as if they 
were of an absolutely general applicability — as the 
world indeed imagines them to be. Bryant, in his 
very learned ‘Mythology/ mentions an analogous 
source of error, when he says that ‘although the 


216 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Pagan fables are not believed, yet we forget ourselves 
continually, and make inferences from them as ex- 
isting realities.’ With the algebraists, however, who 
are pagans themselves, the ‘ Pagan fables ’ are believed 
and the inferences are made, not so much through 
lapse of memory as through an unaccountable add- 
ling of the brains. In short, I never yet encountered 
the mere mathematician who could be trusted out of 
equal roots, or one who did not clandestinely hold it 
as a point of his faith that x% x px was absolutely and 
unconditionally equal to q. Say to one of these gen- 
tlemen, by way of experiment, if you please, that you 
believe occasions may occur where x% x px is not alto- 
gether equal to q , and, having made him understand 
what you mean, get out of his reach as speedily as 
convenient, for, beyond doubt, he will endeavour to 
knock you down. 

“ I mean to say,” continued Dupin, while I merely 
laughed at his last observations, “ that if the minister 
had been no more than a mathematician, the Prefect 
would have been under no necessity of giving me 
this check. I knew him, however, as both mathema- 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 217 
tician and poet, and my measures were adapted to his 
capacity, with reference to the circumstances by 
which he was surrounded. I knew him as a courtier, 
too, and as a bold intriguant. Such a man, I con- 
sidered, could not fail to be aware of the ordinary 
political modes of action. He could not have failed 
to anticipate — and events have proved that he did 
not fail to anticipate — the waylayings to which he 
was subjected. He must have foreseen, I reflected, 
the secret investigations of his premises. His fre- 
quent absences from home at night, which were 
hailed by the Prefect as certain aids to his success, 
I regarded only as ruses, to afford opportunity for 
thorough search to the police and thus the sooner to 
impress them with the conviction to which G — , in 
fact, did finally arrive — the conviction that the letter 
was not upon the premises. I felt, also, that the 
whole train of thought, which I was at some pains 
in detailing to you just now, concerning the in- 
variable principle of policial action in searches for 
articles concealed — I felt that this whole train of 
thought would necessarily pass through the mind of 


218 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the Minister. It would imperatively lead him to 
despise all the ordinary nooks of concealment. He 
could not, I reflected, be so weak as not to see that 
the most intricate and remote recess of his hotel would 
be as open as his commonest closets to the eyes, to the 
probes, to the gimlets, and to the microscopes of the 
Prefect. I saw, in fine, that he would be driven, as 
a matter of course, to simplicity , if not deliberately 
induced to it as a matter of choice. You will re- 
member, perhaps, how desperately the Prefect 
laughed when I suggested, upon our first interview, 
that it was just possible this mystery troubled him so 
much on account of its being so very self-evident.” 

“Yes,” said I, “I remember his merriment well. 
I really thought he would have fallen into convul- 
sions.” 

“ The material world,” continued Dupin, “abounds 
with very strict analogies to the immaterial ; and thus 
some colour of truth has been given to the rhetorical 
dogma, that metaphor, or simile, may be made to 
strengthen an argument as well as to embellish a 
description. The principal of the vis inertioe , for 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 219 

example, seems to be identical in physics and meta- 
physics. It it not more true in the former, that a 
large body is with more difficulty set in motion than 
a smaller one, and that its subsequent momentum is 
commensurate with this difficulty, than it is, in the 
latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while 
more forcible, more constant, and more eventful in 
their movements than those of inferior grade, are yet 
the less readily moved and more embarrassed, and full 
of hesitation in the first few steps of their progress. 
Again: have you ever noticed which of the street 
signs, over the shop doors, are the most attractive of 
attention ? ” 

“ I have never given the matter a thought,” I said. 

“ There is a game of puzzles,” he resumed, “ which 
is played upon a map. One party playing requires 
another to find a given word — the name of town, river 
state, or empire — any word, in short, upon the motley 
and perplexed surface of the chart. A novice in the 
game generally seeks to embarrass his opponents by 
giving them the most minutely lettered names; but 
the adept selects such words as stretch, in large 


220 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

characters, from one end of the chart to the other. 
These, like the over-largely lettered signs and plac- 
ards of the street, escaped observation by dint of 
being excessively obvious; and here the physical 
oversight is precisely analogous with the moral in- 
apprehension by which the intellect suffers to pass 
unnoticed those considerations which are too ob- 
strusively and too palpably self-evident. But this 
is a point, it appears, somewhat above or beneath 
the understanding of the Prefect. He never once 
thought it probable, or possible, that the minister 
had deposited the letter immediately beneath the 
nose of the whole world by way of best preventing 
any portion of that world from perceiving it. 

“ But the more I reflected upon the daring, dashing, 
and discriminating ingenuity of D — ; upon the fact 
that the document must always have been at hand , if 
he intended to use it to good purpose; and upon the 
decisive evidence, obtained by the Prefect, that it was 
not hidden within the limits of that dignitary’s ordi- 
nary search — the more satisfied I became that, to 
conceal this letter, the minister had been resorted to 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 221 
the comprehensive and sagacious expedient of not 
attempting to conceal it at all. 

“ Full of these ideas, I prepared myself with a pair 
of green spectacles, and called one fine morning, 
quite by accident, at the Ministerial hotel. I found 
D — at home, yawning, lounging, and dawdling, 
as usual, and pretending to be in the last extremity 
of ennui. He is, perhaps, the most really energetic 
human being now alive — but that is only when no- 
body sees him. 

“To be even with him, I complained of my weak 
eyes, and lamented the necessity of the spectacles, 
under cover of which I cautiously and thoroughly 
surveyed the whole apartment, while seemingly in- 
tent only upon the conversation of my host. 

“ I paid especial attention to a large writing table 
near which he sat, and upon which lay confusedly, 
some miscellaneous letters and other papers, with 
one or two musical instruments and a few books. 
Here, however, after a long and very deliberate 
scrutiny, I saw nothing to excite particular suspicion. 

“At length my eyes, in going the circuit of the room. 


222 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


fell upon a trumpery filigree card-rack of pasteboard, 
that hung dangling by a dirty blue ribbon, from a little 
brass knob just beneath the middle of the mantle- 
piece. In this rack, which had three or four com- 
partments, were five or six visiting cards and a solitary 
letter. This last was much soiled and crumpled. 
It was torn nearly in two, across the middle — as if a 
design, in the first instance, to tear it entirely up as 
worthless, had been altered or stayed in the second. 
It had a large black seal, bearing the D — cipher very 
conspicuously, and was addressed, in a diminutive 
female hand, to D — , the Minister, himself. It was 
thrust carelessly, and even, as it seemed, contemp- 
tuously, into one of the uppermost divisions of the 
rack. 

“No sooner had I glanced at this letter than I con- 
cluded it to be that of which I was in search. To be 
sure, it was, to all appearance, radically different 
from the one of which the Prefect had read us so 
minute a description. Here the seal was large and 
black, with the D — cipher; there it was small and 
red, with the ducal arms of the S — family. Here, 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 223 

the address to the minister, was diminutive and fem- 
inine; there the superscription, to a certain royal per- 
sonage, was remarkably bold and decided; the size 
alone formed a point of correspondence. But, then, 
the radicalness of these differences, which was exces- 
sive; the dirt; the soiled and torn condition of the 
paper, so inconsistent with the true methodical habits 
of D — , and so suggestive of a design to delude the 
beholder into an idea of the worthlessness of the docu- 
ment; — these things, together with the hyper-obtru- 
sive situation of this document, full in the view of 
every visitor, and thus exactly in accordance with the 
conclusions to which I had previously arrived ; these 
things, I say, were strongly corroborative of suspicion 
in one who came with the intention to suspect. 

“I protracted my visit as long as possible, and, 
while I maintained a most animated discussion with 
the Minister, upon a topic which I knew well had 
never failed to interest and excite him, I kept my at- 
tention really riveted upon the letter. In this exami- 
nation, I committed to memory its external appear- 
ance and arrangement in the rack; and also fell, at 


224 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


length, upon a discovery which set at rest whatever 
trivial doubt I might have entertained. In scrutinizing 
the edges of the paper, I observed them to be more 
chafed than seemed necessary. They presented the 
broken appearance which is manifested when a stiff 
paper, having been once folded, and pressed with a 
folder, is refolded in a reversed direction, in the same 
creases or edges which had formed the original fold. 
This discovery was sufficient. It was clear to me 
that the letter had been turned ,as a glove, inside 
out, redirected and resealed. I bade the minister 
good-morning, and took my departure at once, leav- 
ing a gold snuff-box upon the table. 

“ The next morning I called for the snuff-box, when 
we resumed, quite eagerly, the conversation of the 
preceding day. While thus engaged, however, a 
loud report, as if of a pistol, was heard immediately 
beneath the windows of the Hotel, and was succeeded 
by a series of fearful screams, and the shoutings 
of a mob. D — rushed to a casement, threw it 
open, and looked out. In the mean time, I stepped 
to the card-rack, took the letter, put it in my pocket, 





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THE PURLOINED LETTER 225 

and replaced it by a fac-simile (so far as regards ex- 
ternals) which I had carefully prepared at my lodg- 
ings — imitating the D — cipher, very readily, by 
means of a seal formed of bread. 

“ The disturbance in the street had been occasioned 
by the frantic behaviour of a man with a musket. He 
had fired it among a crowd of women and children. 
It proved, however, to have been without ball, and 
the fellow was suffered to go his way as a lunatic or a 
drunkard. When he had gone, D — came from the 
window, whither I had followed him immediately 
upon securing the object in view. Soon afterward I 
bade him farewell. The pretended lunatic was a 
man in my own pay.” 

“ But what purpose had you,” I asked, “ in replac- 
ing the letter by a fac-simile? Would it not have 
been better, at the first visit, to have seized it openly, 
and departed ?” 

“ D — ,” replied Dupin, “ is a desperate man, and 
a man of nerve. His Hotel, too, is not without atten- 
dants devoted to his interests. Had I made the wild 
attempt you suggest, I might never have left the 


226 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Ministerial presence alive. The good people of Paris 
might have heard of me no more. But I had an ob- 
ject apart from these considerations. You know my 
political prepossessions. In this matter, I act as a 
partisan of the lady concerned. For eighteen months 
the Minister has had her in his power. She has now 
him in hers — since, being unaware that the letter is 
not in his possession, he will proceed with his ex- 
actions as if it was. Thus will he inevitably commit 
himself, at once, to his political destruction. His 
downfall, too, will not be more precipitate than awk- 
ward. It is all very well to talk about the facilis de- 
scensus Averni; but in all kinds of climbing, as Cata- 
lani said of singing, it is far more easy to get up than to 
come down. In the present instance I have no sym- 
pathy — at least no pity — for him who descends. He 
is that momstrum horrendum, an unprincipled man of 
genius. I confess, however, that I should like very 
well to know the precise character of his thoughts, 
when, being defied by her whom the Prefect terms 4 a 
certain personage,’ he is reduced to opening the letter 
which I left for him in the card-rack.” 


THE PURLOINED LETTER 227 

“ How ? did you put anything particular in it ?” 

“ Why — it did not seem altogether right to leave 
the interior blank — that would have been insulting. 
D — , at Vienna once, did me an evil turn, which I 
told him, quite good-humouredly, that I should re- 
member. So, as I knew he would feel some curiosity 
in regard to the identity of the person who had out- 
witted him, I thought it a pity not to give him a clue. 
He is well acquainted with my MS., and I just 
copied into the middle of the blank sheet the words — 

“ ‘ — Un dessein si juneste, 

S’ il n’ est digne d’ Atrde , est digne de Thyeste.’” 

They are to be found in Crebillon’s “ Atree” 








THOU ART THE MAN 


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THOU ART THE MAN 

I WILL now play the (Edipus to the Rattleborough 
enigma. I will expound to you, as I alone can, the 
secret of the enginery that effected the Rattlebor- 
ough miracle — the one, the true, the admitted, the 
undisputed, the indisputable miracle, which put a 
definite end to infidelity among the Rattleburghers 
and converted to the orthodox of the grandames all 
the carnal-minded who had ventured to be sceptical 
before. 

This event which I should be sorry to discuss in 
a tone of unsuitable levity, occurred in the summer 
of 18 — . Mr. Barnabas Shuttleworthy — one of the 
wealthiest and most respectable citizens of the bor- 
ough, had been missing for several days under cir- 
cumstances which gave rise to suspicion of foul play. 


232 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Mr. Shuttleworthy had set out for Rattleborough 
very early one Saturday morning, on horseback, with 
the avowed intention of proceeding to the city of — , 
about fifteen miles distant, and of returning the night 
of the same day. Two hours after his departure,, 
however, his horse returned without him, and with- 
out the saddle-bags which had been strapped on his 
back at starting. The animal was wounded, too, 
and covered with mud. These circumstances nat- 
urally gave rise to much alarm among the friends of 
the missing man ; and when it was found, on Sunday 
morning that he had not yet made his appearance, 
the whole borough arose en masse to go and look for 
his body. 

The foremost and most energetic in instituting 
this search was the bosom friend of Mr. Shuttle- 
worthy — a Mr. Charles Goodfellow, or, as he was 
universally called, “Charley Goodfellow,” or “Old 
Charley Goodfellow.” Now, whether it is a mar- 
vellous coincidence, or whether it is that the name 
itself has an imperceptible effect upon the character, 
I have never yet been able to ascertain; but the fact 


THOU ART THE MAN 233 

is unquestionable, that there never yet was any per- 
son named Charles who was not an open, manly, 
honest, good-natured, and frank-hearted fellow, with 
a rich, clear voice, that did you good to hear it, and 
an eye that looked you always straight in the face, as 
much as to say : “ I have a clear conscience myself, 
am afraid of no man, and am altogether above 
doing a mean action.” And thus all the hearty, 
careless, “ walking gentlemen” of the stage are very 
certain to be called Charles. 

Now, “ Old Charley Goodfellow,” although he had 
been in Rattleborough not longer than six months 
or thereabouts, and although nobody knew anything 
about him before he came to settle in the neighbour- 
hood, had experienced no difficulty in the world in 
making the acquaintance of all the respectable people 
in the borough. Not a man of them but would have 
taken his bare word for a thousand at any moment; 
and as for the women, there is no saying what they 
would not have done to oblige him. And all this came 
of his having been christened Charles, and of his 
possessing, in consequence, that ingenuous face 


234 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


which is proverbially the very “ best letter of recom- 
mendation.” 

I have already said that Mr. Shuttleworthy was 
one of the most respectable and, undoubtedly, he was 
the most wealthy man in Rattleborough, while “ Old 
Charley Goodfellow” was upon as intimate terms 
with him as if he had been his own brother. The 
two old gentlemen were next-door neighbours, and, 
although Mr. Shuttleworthy seldom, if ever, visited 
“ Old Charley,” and never was known to take a meal 
in his house, still this did not prevent the two friends 
from being exceedingly intimate, as I have just ob- 
served; for “ Old Charley” never let a day pass with- 
out stepping in three or four times to see how his 
neighbour came on, and very often he would stay for 
breakfast or tea, and almost always to dinner; and 
then the amount of wine that was made way with by 
the two cronies at a sitting, it would really be a diffi- 
cult thing to ascertain. Old Charley’s favourite 
beverage was Chateau Margaux , and it appeared to do 
Mr. Shuttleworthy’s heart good to see the old fellow 
swallow it, as he did, quart after quart; so that, one 


THOU ART THE MAN 


235 


day, when the wine was in and the wit, as a natural 
consequence, somewhat out, he said to his crony, as 
he slapped him upon the back — “ I tell you what it is, 
Old Charley, you are, by all odds, the heartiest old 
fellow I ever came across in all my born days; and 
since you love to guzzle the wine in that fashion, I’ll 
be darned if I don’t have to make thee a present of 
a big box of the Ch&teau Margaux. Od rot me,”— 
(Mr. Shuttleworthy had a sad habit of swearing, al- 
though he seldom went beyond “ Od rot me,” or “ By 
gosh,” or “By the jolly golly”) — “Od rot me,” says 
he, “ if I don’t send an order to town this very after- 
noon for a double box of the best that can be got, 
and I’ll make ye a present of it, I will ! — ye needn’t 
say a word now — I will, I tell ye, and there’s an end 
of it; so look out for it — it will come to hand some 
of these fine days, precisely when ye are looking for 
it the least ! ” I mention this little bit of liberality on 
the part of Mr. Shuttleworthy, just by way of showing 
you how very intimate an understanding existed be- 
tween the two friends. 

Well, on the Sunday morning in question, when it 


236 


MONSIEUR DUP1N 


came to be fairly understood that Mr. Shuttleworthy 
had met with foul play, I never saw any one so pro- 
foundly affected as “Old Charley Goodfellow.” 
When he first heard that the horse had come home 
without his master, and without his master’s saddle- 
bags, and all bloody from a pistol-shot, that had 
gone clean through and through the poor animal’s 
chest without quite killing him — when he heard 
all this, he turned as pale as if the missing man had 
been his own dear brother or father, and shivered 
and shook all over as if he had had a fit of the 
ague. 

At first, he was too much overpowered with grief 
to be able to do anything at all, or to decide upon any 
plan of action ; so that for a long time he endeavoured 
to dissuade Mr. Shuttleworthy’s other friends from 
making a stir about the matter, thinking it best to 
wait awhile — say for a week or two, or a month, or 
two — to see if something wouldn’t turn up, or if Mr. 

, Shuttleworthy wouldn’t come in the natural way, and 
explain his reason for sending his horse on before. 
I dare say you have often observed this disposition 


THOU ART THE MAN 237 

to temporize, or to procrastinate, in people who are 
labouring under any very poignant sorrow. Their 
powers of mind seem to be rendered torpid, so that 
thay have a horror of anything like action, and like 
nothing in the world so well as to lie quietly in bed 
and “ nurse their grief,” as the old ladies express it — 
that is to say, ruminate over their trouble. 

The people of Rattleborough had, indeed, so high 
an opinion of the wisdom and discretion of “Old 
Charley,” that the greater part of them felt disposed 
to agree with him, and not make a stir in the business 
“until something should turn up,” as the honest old 
gentleman worded it; and I believe that, after all, 
this would have been the general determination, but 
for the very suspicious interference of Mr. Shuttle- 
worthy’s nephew, a young man of very dissipated 
habits, and otherwise of rather bad character. This 
nephew, whose name was Pennifeather, would listen 
to nothing like reason in the matter of “ lying quiet,” 
but insisted upon making immediate search for the* 
“corpse of the murdered man.” This was the ex- 
pression he employed; and Mr. Goodfellow acutely 


238 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


remarked at the time, that it was “ a singular expres 
sion, to say no more.” This remark of “ Old Char 
ley’s,” too, had great effect upon the crowd; and om 
of the party was heard to ask, very impressively, 
“ how it happened that young Mr. Pennifeather was 
so intimately cognizant of all the circumstances 
connected with his wealthy uncle’s disappearance, 
as to feel authorized to assert, distinctly and unequiv- 
ocally, that his uncle was ‘a murdered man.’ ” Here- 
upon some little squibbing and bickering occurred 
among various members of the crowd, and especially 
between “Old Charley” and Mr Pennifeather — al- 
though this latter occurrence was, indeed, by no 
means a novelty, for litt e good will had subsisted 
between the parties for the last three or four months ; 
and matters had even gone so far that Mr. Penni- 
feather had actually knocked down his uncle’s friend 
for some alleged excess of liberty that the latter had 
taken in the uncle’s house, of which the nephew was 
an inmate. Upon this occasion “ Old Charley” is 
said to have behaved with exemplary moderation and 
Christian charity. He arose from the blow, adjusted 



< » 


f ’ ’ 


THOU ART THE MAN 














THOU ART THE MAN 


239 


his clothes, and made no attempt at retaliation at all 

— merely muttered a few words about “ taking sum- 
mary vengeance at the first convenient opportunity ” 

— a natural and very justifiable ebullition of anger, 
which meant nothing, however, and, beyond doubt, 
was no sooner given vent to than forgotten. 

However these matters may be (which have no 
reference to the point now at issue), it is quite certain 
that the people of Rattleborough, principally through 
the persuasion of Mr. Pennifeather, came at length 
to the determination of dispersion over the adjacent 
country in search of the missing Mr. Shuttleworthy. 
I say they came to this determination in the first in- 
stance. After it had been fully resolved that a search 
should be made, it was considered almost a matter 
of course that the seekers should disperse — that is 
to say, distribute themselves in parties — for the more 
thorough examination of the region round about. I 
forgot, however, by what ingenious train of reasoning 
it was that “ Old Charley” finally convinced the as- 
sembly that this was the most injudicious plan that 
could be pursued. Convince them, however, he did 


240 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


— all except Mr. Pennifeather ; and, in the end, it was 
arranged that a search should be instituted, carefully 
and very thoroughly, by the burghers en masse , “ Old 
Charley” himself leading the way. 

As for the matter of that, there could have been no 
better pioneer than “ Old Charley,” whom everybody 
knew to have the eye of a lynx; but, although he led 
them into all manner of out-of-the-way holes and 
corners, by routes that nobody had ever suspected of 
existing in the neighbourhood, and although the 
search was incessantly kept up day and night for 
nearly a week, still no trace of Mr. Shuttleworthy 
could be discovered. When I say no trace, however, 
I must not be understood to speak literally; for trace, 
to some extent, there certainly was. The poor gen- 
tleman had been tracked, by his horse’s shoes (which 
were peculiar), to a spot about three miles to the east 
of the borough, on the main road leading to the city. 
Here the track made off into a by-path through a 
piece of woodland — the path coming out again into 
the main road, and cutting off about half a mile of 
the regular distance. Following the shoe-marks 


THOU ART THE MAN 


241 


down this lane, the party came at length to a pool of 
stagnant water, half hidden by the brambles, to the 
right of the lane, and opposite this pool all vestige of 
the track was lost sight of. It appeared, however, 
that a struggle of some nature had here taken place, 
and it seemed as if some large and heavy body, much 
larger and heavier than a man, had been drawn from 
the by-path to the pool. This latter was carefully 
dragged twice, but nothing was found ; and the party 
were upon the point of going away, in despair of com- 
ing to any result, when Providence suggested to Mr. 
Goodfellow the expediency of draining the water off 
altogether. This project was received with cheers, 
and many high compliments to “ Old Charley” upon 
his sagacity and consideration. As many of the 
burghers had brought spades with them, supposing 
that they might possibly be called upon to disinter a 
corpse, the drain was easily and speedily effected; 
and no sooner was the bottom visible, than right in 
the middle of the mud that remained was discovered 
a black silk velvet waistcoat, which nearly every one 
present immediately recognized as the property of 


242 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

Mr. Pennifeather. This waistcoat was much torn 
and stained with blood, and there were several persons 
among the party who had a distinct remembrance of 
its having been worn by its owner on the very morning 
of Mr. Shuttleworthy’s departure for the city; while 
there were others, again, ready to testify upon oath, 
if required, that Mr. P. did not wear the garment in 
question at any period during the remainder of that 
memorable day; nor could any one be found to say 
that he had seen it upon Mr. P.’s person at any period 
at all subsequent to Mr. Shuttleworthy’s disappear- 
ance. 

Matters now wore a very serious aspect for Mr. 
Pennifeather, and it was observed, as an indubitable 
confirmation of the suspicions which were excited 
against him, that he grew exceedingly pale, and 
when asked what he had to say for himself, was utterly 
incapable of saying a word. Hereupon, the few 
friends his riotous mode of living had left him de- 
serted him at once to a man, and were even more clam- 
ourous than his ancient and avowed enemies for his 
instantaneous arrest. But, on the other hand, the 


THOU ART THE MAN 243 

magnanimity of Mr. Goodfellow shone forth with 
only the more brilliant lustre through contrast. He 
made a warm and intensely eloquent defense of Mr. 
Pennifeather, in which he alluded more than once 
to his own sincere forgiveness of that wild young 
gentleman — “the heir of the worthy Mr. Shuttle- 
worthy ” — for the insult which he (the young gentle- 
man) had, no doubt in the heat of passion, thought 
proper to put upon him (Mr. Goodfellow). “He 
forgave him for it,” he said, “from the very bottom 
of his heart; and for himself (Mr. Goodfellow), so 
far from pushing the suspicious circumstances to ex- 
tremity, which he was sorry to say, really had arisen 
against Mr. Pennifeather, he (Mr. Goodfellow) would 
make every exertion in his power, would employ all 
the little eloquence in his possession to — to — to — 
soften down, as much as he could conscientiously do 
so, the worst features of this really exceedingly per- 
plexing piece of business.” 

Mr. Goodfellow went on for some half hour longer 
in this strain, very much to the credit both of his head 
and of his heart; but your warm-hearted people are 


244 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


seldom opposite in their observations — they run into 
all sorts of blunders, contre temps and mal-apropos- 
isms , in the hot-headedness of their zeal to serve a 
friend — thus, often with the kindest attentions in the 
world, doing infinitely more to prejudice his cause 
than to advance it. 

So, in the present instance, it turned out with all 
the eloquence of “Old Charley”; for, although he 
laboured earnestly in behalf of the suspected, yet it so 
happened, somehow or other, that every syllable he 
uttered of which the direct but unwitting tendency 
was not to exalt the speaker in the good opinion of 
his audience, had the effect of deepening the suspi- 
cion already attached to the individual whose cause 
he pleaded, and of arousing against him the fury of 
the mob. 

One of the most unaccountable errors committed 
by the orator was his allusion to the suspected as “ the 
heir of the worthy old gentleman, Mr. Shuttleworthy.” 
The people had really never thought of this before. 
They had only remembered certain threats of disin- 
heritance uttered a year or two previously by the 


THOU ART THE MAN 


245 


uncle (who had no living relative except the nephew) ; 
and they had, therefore, always looked upon this dis- 
inheritance as a matter that was settled — so single- 
minded a race of beings were the Rattleburghers ; 
but the remark of “ Old Charley” brought them at 
once to a consideration of this point, and thus gave 
them to see the possibility of the threats having been 
nothing more than a threat. And straightway here- 
upon arose the natural question of cui bono ? — a 
question that tended even more than the waistcoat 
to fasten the terrible crime upon the young man. And 
here, lest I may be misunderstood, permit me to 
digress for one moment merely to observe that the 
exceedingly brief and simple Latin phrase which I 
have employed, is invariably mistranslated and mis- 
conceived. “ Cui bono ? ” in all the crack novels and 
elsewhere — in those of Mrs. Gore, for example (the 
author of “Cecil”), a lady who quotes all tongues 
from the Chaldsean to Chickasaw, and is helped to 
her learning, “as needed,” upon a systematic plan, 
by Mr. Beckford — in all the crack novels, I say, 
from those of Bulwer and Dickens to those of 


246 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Turnapenny and Ainsworth, !he two little Latin 
words cui bono are rendered “ to what purpose ?” or 
(as if quo bono), “ to what good ?” Their true mean 
ing, nevertheless, is “ for whose advantage.” Cui , to 
whom ; bono , is it for a benefit ? It is a purely legal 
phrase, and applicable precisely in cases such as we 
have now under consideration, where the probability 
of the doer of a deed hinges upon the probability of 
the benefit accruing to this individual or to that from 
the deed’s accomplishment. Now t in the present in- 
stance, the question cui bono very pointedly impli- 
cated Mr. Pennifeather. His uncle had threatened 
him, after making a will in his favour, with disinheri- 
tance. But the threat had not been actually kept; 
the original will, it appeared, had not been altered. 
Had it been altered, the only supposable motive for 
murder on the part of the suspected would have been 
the ordinary one of revenge; and even this would 
have been counteracted by the hope of reinstation 
into the good graces of the uncle. But the will being 
unaltered, while the threat to alter remained sus- 
pended over the nephew’s head, there appears at 


THOU ART THE MAN 


247 


once the very strongest possible inducement for the 
atrocity: and so concluded, very sagaciously, the 
worthy citizens of the borough of Rattle. 

Mr. Pennifeather was, accordingly, arrested upon 
the spot, and the crowd, after some farther search, 
proceeded homeward, having him in custody. On 
the route, however, another circumstance occurred 
tending to confirm the suspicion entertained. Mr. 
Goodfellow, whose zeal led him to be always a little 
in advance of the party, was seen suddenly to run 
forward a few paces, stoop, and then apparently 
to pick up some small object from the grass. Having 
quickly examined it, he was observed, too, to make 
a sort of half attempt at concealing it in his coat 
pocket; but this attention was noticed, as I say, and 
consequently prevented, when the object picked up 
was found to be a Spanish knife which a dozen per- 
sons at once recognized as belonging to Mr. Penni- 
feather. Moreover, his initials were engraved upon 
the handle. The blade of this knife was open and 
bloody. 

No doubt now remained of the guilt of the nephew, 


248 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


and immediately upon reaching Rattleborough he 
was taken before a magistrate for examination. 

Here matters again took a most unfavourable turn. 
The prisoner, being questioned as to his whereabouts 
on the morning of Mr. Shuttleworthy’s disappear- 
ance, had absolutely the audacity to acknowledge 
that on that very morning he had been out with his 
rifle deer-stalking, in the immediate neighbourhood of 
the pool where the blood-stained waistcoat had been 
discovered through the sagacity of Mr. Goodfellow. 

This latter now came forward, and, with tears in 
his eyes, asked permission to be examined. He said 
that a stern sense of the duty he owed his Maker, not 
less than his fellow-men, would permit him no longer 
to remain silent. Hitherto, the sincerest affection 
for the young man (notwithstanding the latter’s ill- 
treatment of himself, Mr. Goodfellow) had induced 
him to make every hypothesis which imagination 
could suggest, by way of endeavouring to account for 
what appeared suspicious in the circumstances that 
told so seriously against Mr. Pennifeather ; but these 
circumstances were now altogether too convincing — 


THOU ART THE MAN m 

too damning; he would hesitate no longer — he would 
tell all he knew, although his heart (Mr. Goodfellow’s) 
should absolutely burst asunder in the effort. He 
then went on to state that, on the afternoon of the day 
previous to Mr. Shuttleworthy’s departure for the 
city, that worthy old gentleman had mentioned to 
his nephew in his hearing (Mr. Goodfellow’s), that 
his object in going to town on the morrow was to 
make a deposit of an unsually large sum of money in 
the “ Farmers’ and Merchants’ Bank,” and that, then 
and there, the said Mr. Shuttleworthy had distinctly 
avowed to the said nephew his irrevocable determina- 
tion of rescinding the will originally made, and of 
cutting him off with a shilling. He (the witness) now 
solemnly called upon the accused to state whether 
what he (the witness) had just stated was or was not 
the truth in every substantial particular. Much to 
the astonishment of every one present Mr. Penni- 
feather frankly admitted that it was. 

The magistrate now considered it his duty to send 
a couple of constables to search the chamber of the 
accused in the house of his uncle. From this search 


250 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


they almost immediately returned with the well- 
known steel-bound, russet leather pocket-book which 
the old gentleman had been in the habit of carrying 
for years. Its valuable contents, however, had been 
abstracted, and the magistrate in vain endeavoured 
to extort from the prisoner the use which had been 
made of them, or the place of their concealment. 
Indeed, he obstinately denied all knowledge of the 
matter. The constables, also, discovered, between 
the bed and sacking of the unhappy man, a shirt and 
neck-handkerchief both marked with the initials of 
his name, and both hideously besmeared with the 
blood of the victim. 

At this juncture, it was announced that the horse of 
the murdered man had just expired in the stable from 
the effects of the wound he had received, and it was 
proposed by Mr. Goodfellow that a 'post-mortem exam- 
ination of the beast should be immediately made, with 
the view, if possible, of discovering the ball. This was 
accordingly done; and, as if to demonstrate beyond 
a question the guilt of the accused, Mr. Goodfellow, 
after considerable searching in the cavity of the chest, 


THOU ART THE MAR 251 

was enabled to detect and to pull forth a bullet of very 
extraordinary size, which, upon trial, was found to 
be exactly adapted to the bore of Mr. Pennifeather’s 
rifle, while it was far too large for that of any other 
person in the borough or its vicinity. To render the 
matter even surer yet, however, this bullet was dis- 
covered to have a flaw or seam at right angles to the 
usual suture, and upon examination, this seam cor- 
responded precisely with an accidental ridge or eleva- 
tion in a pair of moulds acknowledged by the accused 
himself to be his own property. Upon finding of this 
bullet, the examining magistrate refused to listen to 
any further testimony, and immediately committed 
the prisoner for trial — declining resolutely to take any 
bail in the case, although against this severity Mr. 
Goodfellow very warmly remonstrated, and offered 
to become surety in whatever amount might be re- 
quired. This generosity on the part of “ Old Char- 
ley” was only in accordance with the whole tenor of 
his amiable and chivalrous conduct during the entire 
period of his sojourn in the borough cf Rattle. In 
the present instance, the worthy man was so entirely 


252 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


carried away by the excessive warmth of his sympathy 
that he seemed to have quite forgotten, when he 
offered to go bail for his young friend, that he him- 
self (Mr. Goodfellow) did not possess a single dollar’s 
worth of property upon the face of the earth. 

The result of the commital may be readily foreseen. 
Mr. Pennifeather, amid the loud execrations of all 
Rattleborough, was brought to trial at the next crimi- 
nal sessions, when the chain of circumstantial evi- 
dence (strengthened as it was by some additional 
damning facts, which Mr. Goodfellow’s sensitive 
conscientiousness forbade him to withhold from the 
court) was considered so unbroken, and so thoroughly 
conclusive, that the jury, without leaving their seats, 
returned an immediate verdict of “ Guilty of murder 
in the first degree .” Soon afterward the unhappy 
wretch received sentence of death, and was remanded 
to the county jail to await the inexorable vengeance 
of the law. 

In the mean time, the noble behaviour of “Old 
Charley Goodfellow” had doubly endeared him to the 
honest citizens of the borough. He became ten times 


THOU ART THE MAN 


253 


a greater favourite than ever; and, as a natural result 
of the hospitality with which he was treated, he re- 
laxed, as it were, perforce, the extremely parsimonious 
habits which his poverty had hitherto impelled him 
to observe, and very frequently had little reunions at 
his own house, when wit and jollity reigned supreme 
— dampened a little, of course, by the occasional re- 
membrance of the untoward and melancholy fate 
which impended over the nephew of the late lamented 
bosom friend of the generous host. One fine day, 
this magnanimous old gentleman was agreeably sur- 
prised at the receipt of the following letter: 


p o 
r* t? 
p 

g g- 
S * 
L Q 


Iv 1 

CL- W 

S .“e 


“ Charles Goodfellow, Esquire : 

“ Dear Sir : In conformity with an order transmitted to 
our firm about two months since, by our esteemed correspon- 
dent, Mr. Barnabas Shuttleworthy, we have the honour of 
forwarding this morning, to your address, a double box of 
Chateau-Margaux, of the antelope brand, violet seal. Box 
numbered and marked as per margin. 

“ We remain, sir, 

“ Your most ob'nt ser’ts. 



“ Hoggs, Frogs, Bogs, & Co. 

“ City of — , June 21, 18 — . 

“ P. S.” The box will reach you, by wagon, on the day 
after your receipt of this letter. Our respects to Mr. Shuttle 
worthy. “ EU F., B., & Co.” 


254 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

The fact is, that Mr. Goodfellow had, since the 
death of Mr. Shuttleworthy, given over all expectation 
of ever receiving the promised Ch&teau-Margaux ; and 
he, therefore, looked upon it now as a sort of especial 
dispensation of Providence in his behalf. He was 
highly delighted, of course, and in the exuberance 
of his joy invited a large party of friends to a 'petit 
souper on the morrow, for the purpose of broaching 
the good old Mr. Shuttleworthy’s present. Not that 
he said anything about “the good old Mr. Shuttle- 
worthy” when he issued the invitations. The fact 
is, he thought much and concluded to say nothing 
at all. He did not mention to any one — if I remember 
aright — that he had received a present of Chateau- 
Mar gaux. He merely asked his friends to come and 
help him drink some of a remarkably fine quality and 
rich flavour that he had ordered up from the city a 
couple of months ago, and of which he would be in 
the receipt upon the morrow. I have often puzzled 
myself to imagine why it was that “Old Charley” 
came to the conclusion to say nothing about having 
received the wine from his old friend, but I could 


THOU ART THE MAN 


255 


never precisely understand his reason for the silence, 
although he had some excellent and very magnani- 
mous reason, no doubt. 

The morrow at length arrived, and with it a very 
large and highly respectable company at Mr. Good- 
fellow’s house. Indeed, half the borough was there, 
— I myself among the number — but, much to the 
vexation of the host, the Chateau-Mar gaux did not 
arrive until a late hour, and when the sumptuous sup- 
per supplied by “ Old Charley ” had been done very 
ample justice by the guests. It came at length, how- 
ever — a monstrously big box of it there was, too — 
and as the whole party were in excessively good hu- 
mour, it was decided, nem. con., that it should be 
lifted upon the table and its contents disembowelled 
forthwith. 

No sooner said than done. I lent a helping hand; 
and, in a trice, we had the box upon the table, in the 
midst of all the bottles and glasses, not a few of which 
were demolished in the scuffle. “Old Charley,” 
who was pretty much intoxicated, and excessively 
red in the face, now took a seat, with an air of mock 


256 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


dignity, at the head of the board, and thumped furi- 
ously upon it with a decanter, calling upon the com- 
pany to keep order “during the ceremony of dis- 
interring the treasure.” 

After some vociferation, quiet was at length fully 
restored, and, as very often happens in similar cases, 
a profound and remarkable silence ensued. Being 
then requested to force open the lid, I complied, of 
course, “with an infinite deal of pleasure.” I in- 
serted a chisel, and giving it a few slight taps with a 
hammer, the top of the box flew suddenly off, and, 
at the same instant, there sprang up into a sitting 
position, directly facing the host, the bruised, bloody, 
and nearly putrid corpse of the murdered Mr. Shut- 
tleworthy himself. It gazed for a few seconds, fixedly 
and sorrowfully, with its decaying and lack-lustre 
eyes, full into the countenance of Mr. Goodfellow; 
uttered slowly, but clearly and impressively, the 
words — “ Thou art the man! ” and then, falling over 
the side of the chest as if thoroughly satisfied, 
stretched out its limbs quiveringly upon the table. 

The scene that ensued is altogether beyond des- 


THOU ART THE MAN 257 

cription. The rush for the doors was terrific, and 
many of the most robust men in the room fainted 
outright through sheer horror. But after the first 
wild, shrieking burst of affright, all eyes were directed 
to Mr. Goodfellow. If I live a thousand years, I can 
never forget the more than mortal agony which was 
depicted in that ghastly face of his, so lately rubicund 
with triumph and wine. For several minutes, he sat 
rigidly as a statue of marble ; his eyes seeming, in the 
intense vacancy of their gaze, to be turned inward 
and absorbed in the contemplation of his own misera- 
ble, murderous soul. At length their expression ap- 
peared to flash suddenly out into the external world, 
when, with a quick leap, he sprang from his chair, and 
falling heavily with his head and shoulders upon the 
table, and in contact with the corpse, poured out 
rapidly and vehemently a detailed confession of the 
hideous crime for which Mr. Pennifeather was then 
imprisoned and doomed to die. 

What he recounted was in substance this: — He 
followed his victim to the vicinity of the pool; there 
shot his horse with a pistol ; despatched his rider with 


258 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the butt end; possessed himself of the pocket-book; 
and, supposing the horse dead, dragged it with great 
labour to the brambles by the pond. Upon his own 
beast he slung the corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and 
thus bore it to a secure place of concealment a long 
distance off through the woods. 

The waistcoat, the knife, the pocket-book, and 
bullet, had been placed by himself where found, with 
the view of avenging himself upon Mr. Pennifeather. 
He had also contrived the discovery of the stained 
handkerchief and shirt. 

Towards the end of the blood-chilling recital, the 
words of the guilty wretch faltered and grew hollow. 
When the record was finally exhausted, he arose, 
staggered backward from the table, and fell — dead. 

The means by which this happily-timed confession 
was extorted, although efficient, were simple indeed. 
Mr. Goodfellow’s excess of frankness had disgusted 
me, and excited my suspicions from the first. I was 
present when Mr. Pennifeather had struck him, and 
the fiendish expression which then arose upon his 
countenance, although momentary, assured me that 


THOU ART THE MAN 259 

his threat of vengeance would, if possible, be rigidly 
fulfilled. I was thus prepared to view the manoeu- 
vring of “ Old Charley” in a very different light from 
that in which it was regarded by the good citizens of 
Rattleborough. I saw at once that all the criminating 
discoveries arose, either directly or indirectly, from 
himself. But the fact which clearly opened my eyes 
to the true state of the case, was the affair of the bullet, 
found by Mr. G. in the carcass of the horse. I had 
not forgotten, although the Rattleburghers had , that 
there was a hole where the ball had entered the horse, 
and another where it went out. If it were found in the 
animal then, after having made its exit, I saw clearly 
that it must have been deposited by the person who 
found it. The bloody shirt and handkerchief con- 
firmed the idea suggested by the bullet; for the blood 
on examination proved to be capital claret, and no 
more. When I came to think of these things, and 
also of the late increase of liberality and expenditure 
on the part of Mr. Goodfellow, I entertained a suspi- 
cion which was none the less strong because I kept it 
altogether to myself. 


260 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


In the mean time, I instituted a rigorous private 
search for the corpse of Mr. Shuttleworthy, and, for 
good reasons, searched in quarters as divergent as 
possible from those to which Mr. Goodfellow con- 
ducted his party. The result was that, after some 
days, I came across an old dry well, the mouth of 
which was nearly hidden by brambles; and here, at 
the bottom, I discovered what I sought. 

Now it so happened that I had overheard the col- 
loquy between the two cronies, when Mr. Goodfellow 
had contrived to cajole his host into the promise of 
a box of Chateau-Margaux. Upon this hint I acted. 
I procured a stiff piece of whalebone, thrust it down 
the throat of the corpse, and deposited the latter in 
an old wine box — taking care so to double the body 
up as to double the whalebone with it. In this man- 
ner I had to press forcibly upon the lid to keep it down 
while I secured it with nails; and I anticipated, of 
course, that as soon as these latter were removed, the 
top would fly off and the body up. 

Having thus arranged the box, I marked, num- 
bered, and addressed it as already told; and then 


THOU ART THE MAN 


261 


writing a letter in the name of the wine merchants 
with whom Mr. Shuttleworthy dealt, I gave instruc- 
tions to my servant to wheel the box to Mr. Goodfel- 
low’s door, in a barrow, at a given signal from myself. 
For the words which I intended the corpse to speak, 
I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abil- 
ities ; for their effect, I counted upon the conscience 
of the murderous wretch. 

I believe there is nothing more to be explained. Mr. 
Pennifeather was released upon the spot, inherited 
the fortune of his uncle, profited by the lessons of ex- 
perience, turned over a new leaf, and led happily 
ever afterwards a new life. 


















THE 

GOLD-BUG 


What ho ! what ho ! this fellow is dancing mad 1 
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula. 

All in the Wrong 

Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a 
Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Hugue- 
not family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of 
misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the 
mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left 
New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up 
his residence at Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, 
South Carolina. 

This island is a very singular one. It consists of 
little else than the sea sand, and is about three miles 
long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a 
mile. It is separated from the mainland by a scarcely 


266 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness 
of reeds and slime, a favourite resort of the marsh-hen. 
The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at 
least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be 
seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moul- 
trie stands, and where are some miserable frame 
buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives 
from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, 
the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the 
exception of this western point, and a line of hard, 
white beach on the sea-coast, is covered with a dense 
undergrowth of the sweet myrtle so much prized by 
the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often 
attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms 
an almost impenetrable coppice, burdening the air 
with its fragrance. 

In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from 
the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand 
had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when 
I first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance. 
This soon ripened into friendship — for there was 
much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I 


THE GOLD-BUG 


267 


found him well educated, with unusual powers of 
mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to 
perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melan- 
choly. He had with him many books, but rarely 
employed them. His chief amusements were gunning 
and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and 
through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomolog- 
ical specimens — his collection of the latter might 
have been envied by an Swammerdamm. In these 
excursions he was usually accompanied by an old 
negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted be- 
fore the reverses of the family, but who could be in- 
duced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon 
what he considered his right of attendance upon the 
footsteps of his young “ Massa Will.” It is not im- 
probable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving 
him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had con- 
trived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a 
view to the supervision and guardianship of the 
wanderer. 

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan’s Island 
are seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is 


268 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


a rare event indeed when afire is considered necessary. 
About the middle of October, 18 — , there occurred, 
however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before 
sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens 
to the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for 
several weeks — my residence being at that time, in 
Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the island, 
while the facilities of passage and re-passage were 
very far behind those of the present day. Upon 
reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and, 
getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it 
was secreted, unlocked the door, and went in. A 
fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a nov- 
elty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw 
off an overcoat, took an arm-chair by the crackling 
logs, and waited patiently the arrival of my hosts. 

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most 
cordial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, 
bustled about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. 
Legrand was in one of his fits — how else shall I term 
them ? — of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown 
bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this. 


THE GOLD-BUG 


had hunted down and secured, with Jupiter’s as- 
sistance, a scaraboBUs which he believed to be totally 
new, but in respect to which he wished to have my 
opinion on the morrow. 

“And why not to-night?” I asked, rubbing my 
hands over the blaze, and wishing the whole tribe of 
scaraboei at the devil. 

“ Ah, if I had only known you were here ! ” said 
Legrand, “ but its so long since I saw you ; and how 
could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very 
night of all others ? As I was coming home I met 
Lieutenant G — , from the fort, and, very foolishly, 
I lent him the bug ; so it will be impossible for you to 
see it until the morning. Stay here to-night, and I 
will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the love- 
liest thing in creation ! ” 

“ What ? — sunrise ? ” 

“ Nonsense ! no ! — the bug. It is of a brilliant gold 
colour — about the size of a large hickory-nut — with 
two jet black spots near one extremity of the back, 
and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The 
antennce are — ” 


270 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“Dey ain’t no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a 
tellin’ on you,” here interrupted Jupiter; “de bug is 
a goole-bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, 
sep him wing — neber feel half so hebby a bug in my 
life.” 

“ Well, suppose it is, Jup,” replied Legrand, some- 
what more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case 
demanded; “is that any reason for your letting the 
birds burn ? The colour” — here he turned to me — 
“is really almost enough to warrant Jupiter’s idea. 
You never saw a more brilliant metalic lustre than 
the scales emit — but of this you cannot judge till 
to-morrow. In the meantime I can give you some 
idea of the shape.” Saying this, he seated himself at 
a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no 
paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found 
none. 

“ Never mind,” he said at length, “ this will 
answer;” and he drew fom his waistcoat pocket a 
scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, and 
made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While 
he did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was 


THE GOLD-BUG 


271 


still chilly. When the design was complete, he handed 
it to me without rising. As I received it, a loud 
growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the 
door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfound- 
land, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon 
my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I 
had shown him much attention during previous visits. 
When his gambols were over, I looked at the paper, 
and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little 
puzzled at what my friend had depicted . 

“Well!” I said, after contemplating it for some 
minutes, “ this is a strange scaraboeus, I must confess; 
new to me : never saw anything like it before — unless 
it was a skull, or a death’s-head, which it more nearly 
resembles than anything else that has come under 
my observation.” 

“A death’s-head ! ” echoed Legrand. “ Oh — yes — 
well, it has something of that appearance upon paper, 
no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, 
eh ? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouth — 
and then the shape of the whole is oval.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said I; “ but, Legrand, I fear you are 


272 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, 

if I am to form any idea of its personal appearance.” 

“Well, I don’t know,” said he, a little nettled, “I 
draw tolerably — should do it, at least — have had 
good masters, and flatter myself that I am not quite a 
blockhead.” 

“ But, my dear fellow, you are joking then,” said I, 
“ this is a very passable skull — indeed, I may say that 
it is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar 
notions about such specimens of physiology — and 
your scarabceus must be the queerest scarabceus in the 
world, if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very 
thrilling bit of superstition upon this hint. I pre- 
sume you will call the bug scarabceus caput hominis , 
or something of that kind — there are many similar 
titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the 
antennae you spoke of?” 

“ The antennae ! ” said Legrand, who seemed to be 
getting unaccountably warm upon the subject; “I 
am sure you must see the antennae. I made them as 
distinct as they are in the original insect, and I pre- 
sume that is sufficient.” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


273 


“Well, well,” I said, “perhaps you have — still I 
don’t see them and I handed him the paper without 
additional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper; 
but I was much surprised at the turn affairs had 
taken; his ill-humour puzzled me — and, as for the 
drawing of the beetle, there were positively no an- 
tennae visible, and the whole did bear a very close 
resemblance to the ordinary cuts of a death’s-head. 

He received the paper very peevishly, and was 
about to crumple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, 
when a casual glance at the design seemed suddenly 
to rivet his attention. In an instant his face grew 
violently red — in another excessively pale. F or some 
minutes he continued to scrutinize the drawing mi- 
nutely where he sat. At length he arose, took a can- 
dle from the table, and proceeded to seat himself upon 
a sea-chest in the farthest corner of the room. Here 
again he made an anxious examination of the paper; 
turning it in all directions. He said nothing, how- 
ever, and his conduct greatly astonished me; yet I 
thought it prudent not to exacerbate the growing 
moodiness of his temper by any comment. Presently 


274 MONSIEUR DURIN 

he took from his coatpocket a wallet, placed the 
paper carefully in it, and deposited both in a writing- 
desk, which he locked. He now grew more com- 
posed in his demeanour; but his original air of enthu- 
siasm had quite disappeared. Yet he seemed not so 
much sulky as abstracted. As the evening wore 
away he became more and more absorbed in reverie, 
from which no sallies of mine could arouse him. It 
had been my intention to pass the night in the hut, 
as I had frequently done before, but, seeing my host 
in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. He 
did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he 
shook my hand with even more than his usual cor- 
diality. 

It was about a month after this (and during the 
interval I had seen nothing of Legrand) when I re- 
ceived a visit, at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. 
I had never seen the good old negro look so dispirited, 
and I feared that some serious disaster had befallen 
my friend. 

“Well, Jup,” said I, “what is the matter now ? — 
how is your master ? ” 



HERE AGAIN HE MADE AN ANXIOUS EXAMINATION OF THE 

PAPER 























THE GOLD-BUG 


275 


“ Why, to speak de troof , massa, him not so berry 
well as mought be.” 

“Not well! I am truly sorry to hear it. What 
does he complain of ? ” 

“ Dar ! dat’s it ! — him neber plain of notin — but 
him berry sick for all dat.” 

“Very sick, Jupiter! — why didn’t you say so at 
once ? Is he confined to bed ? ” 

“No, dat he aint! — he aint find nowhar — dat’s 
just whar the shoe pinch — my mind is got to be berry 
hebby ’bout poor Massa Will.” 

“Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is 
you are talking about. You say your master is sick. 
Hasn’t he told you what ails him ? ” 

“ Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad about 
de matter — Massa Will say noffin at all aint de mat- 
ter wid him — but den what make him go about 
looking dis here way, wid he head down and he 
soldiers up, and as white as a goose ? And den he 
keep a syphon all de time — ” 

“Keeps a what, Jupiter?” 

“ Keep a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate — de 


276 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


queerest figgurs I ebber did see. Ise gittin to be 
skeered, I tell you. Hab for to keep mighty tight 
eye pon him noovers. Todder day he gib me slip 
for de sun up and was gone de whole ob de blessed 
day. I had a big stick ready cut for to gib him deuce 
good beating when he did come — but Ise sich a fool 
dat I had’nt de heart arter all — he looked so berry 
poorly.” 

“ Eh ? — what ? — ah yes ! — upon the whole I think 
you had better not be too severe with the poor fellow 
— don’t flog him, Jupiter — he can’t very well stand 
it — but you can form no idea of what has occasioned 
this illness, or rather this change of conduct ? Has 
anything unpleasant happened since I saw you ?” 

“No, massa, day aint bin noffin onpleasant since 
den — ’twas ’fore den I’m feared — ’twas de berry day 
you was dare.” 

“ How ? what do you mean ? ” 

“Why, massa, I mean de bug — dare now.” 

“The what?” 

“ De bug — I’m berry sartin dat Massa Will bin bit 
somewhere ’bout de head by dat goole-bug.” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


277 


“And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a 
supposition ?” 

“Claws enuff, massa, and mouff, too. I nebber 
did see such a d — d bug — he kick and he bite ebery 
ting that cum near him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, 
but had for to let him go ’gin mighty quick, I tell you 
— den was de time he must ha’ got de bite. I didn’t 
like de look ob de bug mouff, myself, nohow, so I 
wouldn’t take hold ob him wid my finger, but I cotch 
him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up 
in de paper and stuff a piece of it in he mouff — dat 
was de way.” 

“And you think, then, that your master was really 
bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him 
sick ? ” 

“ I don’t think noffin about it — : I nose it. What 
make him dream bout de goole so much, if taint 
cause he bit by the goole-bug? Ise heered bout 
dem goole-bugs fore dis.” 

“ But how do you know he dreams about gold ?” 

“ How I know ? why, cause he talk about it in he 
sleep — dat’s how I nose.” 


278 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what 
fortunate circumstance am I to attribute the honour 
of a visit from you to-day ? ” 

“What de matter, massa ? ” 

“ Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand ? ” 

“No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;” and here 
Jupiter handed me a note which ran thus : 

“My Dear — 

“ Why have I not seen you for so long a time ? I 
hope you have not been so foolish as to take offense 
at any little brusquerie of mine; but no, that is im- 
probable. 

“ Since I saw you I have had great cause for anx- 
iety. I have something to tell you, yet scarcely 
know how to tell it, or whether I should tell it at all. 

“ I have not been quite well for some days past, and 
poor old Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance, 
by his well-meant attentions. Would you believe it ? 
— he had prepared a huge stick, the other day, with 
which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and 
spending the day, solus , among the hills on the 


THE GOLD-BUG 


279 


mainland. I verily believe that my ill looks alone 
saved me a flogging. 

“ I have made no addition to my cabinet since we 
met. 

“ If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come 
over with Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you 
to-night , upon business of importance. I assure you 
that it is of the highest importance. 

“Ever yours, 

“ William Legrand.” 

There was something in the tone of this note which 
gave me great uneasiness. Its whole style differed 
materially from that of Legrand. What could he be 
dreaming of ? What new crotchet possessed his ex- 
citable brain? What “business of the highest 
importance” could he possibly have to transact? 
Jupiter’s account of him boded no good. I dreaded 
lest the continued pressure of misfortune had, at 
length, fairly unsettled the reason of my friend. With- 
out a moment’s hesitation, therefore, I prepared to 
accompany the negro. 


280 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and 
three spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom 
of the boat in which we were to embark. 

“ What is the meaning of all this, Jup ?” I inquired. 

“Him syfe, massa, and spade.” 

“Very true; but what are they doing here? ” 

“Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis 
pon my buying for him in de town, and de debbil’s 
own lot of money I had to gib for ’em.” 

“ But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, 
is your ‘Massa Will’ going to do with scythes and 
spades ? ” 

“ Dat’s more dan 1 know, and debbil take me if I 
don’t b’lieve ’t is more dan he know too. But it’s all 
cum ob de bug.” 

Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of 
Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to be absorbed 
by “ de bug,” I now stepped into the boat, and made 
sail. With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into 
the little cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and 
a walk of some two miles brought us to the hut. It 
was about three in the afternoon when we arrived. 


THE GOLD-BUG 


281 


Legrand had been awaiting us in eager expectation. 
He grasped my hand with a nervous empressement 
which alarmed me and strengthened the suspicions 
already entertained. His countenance was pale even 
to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with un- 
natural lustre. After some inquiries respecting his 
health, I asked him, not knowing what better to say, 
if he had yet obtained the scaraboeus from Lieu- 
tenant G — . 

“Oh, yes,” he replied, colouring violently; “I 
got it from him the next morning. Nothing should 
tempt me to part with that scaraboeus. Do you know 
that Jupiter is quite right about it ? ” 

“ In what way ? ” I asked, with a sad foreboding at 
heart. 

“ In supposing it to be a bug of real gold.” He said 
this with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt 
inexpressibly shocked. 

“ This bug is to make my fortune,” he continued, 
with a triumphant smile ; “ to reinstate me in my fam- 
ily possessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize 
it ? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon 


28 2 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


me, I have only to use it properly, and I shall arrive 
at the gold of which it is the index. Jupiter, bring 
me that scarabceus ! ” 

“What! de bug, massa? I’d rudder not go fer 
trubble dat bug; you mus’ git him for your own self.” 
Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately 
air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in 
which it was enclosed. It was a beautiful scarabceus , 
and, at that time, unknown to naturalists — of course 
a great prize in a scientific point of view. There 
were two round, black spots near one extremity of the 
back, and a long one near the other. The scales 
were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the appear- 
ance of burnished gold. The weight of the insect 
was very remarkable, and, taking all things into 
consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his 
opinion respecting it; but what to make of Legrand’s 
concordance with that opinion, I could not, for the 
life of me, tell. 

“ I sent for you,” said he, in a grandiloquent tone, 
when I had completed my examination of the beetle; 
“ I sent for you that I might have your counsel and 


THE GOLD-BUG 283 

assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the 
bug-” 

“My dear Legrand,” I cried, interrupting him, 
“ you are certainly unwell, and had better use some 
little precautions. You shall go to bed, and I will 
remain with you a few days, until you get over this. 
You are feverish and — ” 

“ Feel my pulse,” said he. 

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slight- 
est indication of fever. 

“ But you may be ill and yet have no fever. Allow 
me this once to prescribe for you. In the first place 
go to bed. In the next — ” 

“ You are mistaken,” he interposed; “ I am as well 
as I can expect to be under the excitement which I 
suffer. If you really wish me well, you will relieve 
this excitement.” 

“ And how is this to be done ? ” 

“ Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon 
an expedition into the hills, upon the main land, and, 
in this expedition, we shall need the aid of some per- 
son in whom we can confide. You are the only one 


284 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

we can trust. Whether we succeed or rail, the ex- 
citement which you now perceive in me will be equally 
allayed.” 

“I am anxious to oblige you in any way,” I re- 
plied; “but do you mean to say that this infernal 
beetle has any connection with your expedition into 
the hills?” 

“It has.” 

“Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such 
absurd proceeding.” 

“ I am sorry — very sorry — for we shall have to try 
it by ourselves.” 

“Try it by yourselves! The man is surely mad! 
— but stay — how long do you propose to be ab- 
sent ? ” 

“ Probably all night. We shall start immediately, 
and be back, at all events, by sunrise.” 

“ And will you promise me, upon your honour, that 
when this freak of yours is over, and the bug busi- 
ness (good God!) settled to your satisfaction, you 
will then return home and follow my advice implic- 
itly, as that of your physician ? ” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


285 


“ Yes, I promise; and now let us be off, for we have 
no time to lose.” 

With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We 
started about four o’clock — Legrand, Jupiter, the 
dog, and myself. J upiter had with him the scythe and 
spades — the whole of which he insisted upon carrying 
— more through fear, it seemed to me, of trusting 
either of the implements within reach of his master, 
than from any excess of industry or complaisance. 
His demeanour was dogged in the extreme, and “ dat 
d — d bug” were the sole words which escaped his 
lips during the journey. For my own part, I had 
charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand 
contented himself with the scarabceus, which he car- 
ried attached to the end of a bit of whipcord ; twirling 
it to and fro, with the air of a conjuror, as he went. 
When I observed this last, plain evidence of my 
friend’s aberration of mind, I could scarcely refrain 
from tears. I thought it best, however, to humour his 
fancy, at least for the present, or until I could adopt 
some more energetic measures with a chance of suc- 
cess. In the mean time I endeavoured, but all in vain, 


286 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


to sound him in regard to the object of the expedition. 
Having succeeded in inducing me to accompany him, 
he seemed unwilling to hold conversation upon any 
topic of minor importance, and to all my questions 
vouchsafed no other reply than “we shall see!” 

We crossed the creek at the head of the island by 
means of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on 
the shore of the mainland, proceeded in a north- 
westerly direction, through a tract of country exces- 
sively wild and desolate, where no trace of a human 
footstep was to be seen. Legrand led the way with 
decision ; pausing only for an instant, here and there, 
to consult what appeared to be certain landmarks 
of his own contrivance upon a former occasion. 

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, 
and the sun was just setting when we entered a region 
infinitely more dreary than any yet seen. It was a 
species of tableland, near the summit of an almost 
inaccessible hill, densely wooded from base to pin- 
nacle and interspersed with huge crags that appeared 
to lie loosely upon the soil, and in many cases were 
prevented from precipitating themselves into the val- 


THE GOLD-BUG 


287 


leys below, merely by the support of the trees against 
which they reclined. Deep ravines, in various direc- 
tions, gave an air of still sterner solemnity to the 
scene. 

The natural platform to which we had clambered 
was thickly overgrown with brambles, through which 
we soon discovered that it would have been impossible 
to force our way but for the scythe; and Jupiter, 
by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for us 
a path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip-tree, 
which stood, with some eight or ten oaks, upon the 
level, and far surpassed them all, and all other trees 
which I had then ever seen, in the beauty of its foliage 
and form, in the wide spread of its branches, and in 
the general majesty of its appearance. When we 
reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and 
asked him if he thought he could climb it. The old 
man seemed a little staggered by the question, and 
for some moments made no reply. At length he 
approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around 
it, and examined it with minute attention. When 
he had completed his scrutiny, he merely said : 


288 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in 
he life.” 

“ Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will 
soon be too dark to see what we are about.” 

“ How far mus go up, massa ? ” inquired Jupiter. 

“ Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell 
you which way to go — and here — stop! take this 
beetle with you.” 

“ De bug, Massa Will ! — de goole-bug ! ” cried the 
negro, drawing back in dismay. “What for mus 
tote de bug way up de tree ? — d — n if I do ! ” 

“ If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, 
to take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why you 
can carry it up by this string — but, if you do not take 
it up with you in some way, I shall be under the neces- 
sity of breaking your head with this shovel.” 

“ What de matter now, massa ? ” said Jup, evidently 
shamed into compliance; “always want for to raise 
fuss wid old nigger. Was only funnin’ anyhow. Me 
feered de bug ! what I keer for de bug ? ” Here he 
took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string, 
and, maintaining the insect as far from his person as 


THE GOLD-BUG 289 

circumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the 
tree. 

In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron Tulipi- 
fera , the most magnificent of American foresters, 
has a trunk peculiarly smooth, and often rises to a 
great height without lateral branches ; but, in its riper 
age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while 
many short limbs make their appearance on the stem. 
Thus the difficulty of ascension, in the present case, 
lay more in semblance than in reality. Embracing 
the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms 
and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, 
and resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after 
one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length 
wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed 
to consider the whole business as virtually accom- 
plished. The risk of the achievement was, in fact, 
now over, although the climber was some sixty or 
seventy feet from the ground. 

“ Which way mus go now, Massa Will ? ” he asked. 

“ Keep up the largest branch — the one on this 
side,” said Legrand. The negro obeyed him 


290 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


promptly, and apparently with but little trouble 
cending higher and higher, until no glimpse of 
squat figure could be obtained through the d' 
foliage which enveloped it. Presently his voice w~s 
heard in a sort of halloo. 

“ How much fudder is got for go ? ” 

“ How high up are you ? ” asked Legrand. 

“ Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “ can see de sky 
fru de top ob de tree.” 

“Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. 
Look down the trunk and count the limbs below 
you on this side. How many limbs have you 
passed ? ” 

“ One, two, three, four, fibe — I done pass fibe big 
limb, massa, pon dis side.” 

“Then go one limb higher.” 

In a few minutes the voice was heard again, an- 
nouncing that the seventh limb was attained. 

“Now, Jup,” cried Legrand, evidently much ex- 
cited, “ I want you to work your way out upon that 
limb as far as you can. If you see anything strange, 
let me know.” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


291 


By this time what little doubt I might have enter- 
tained of my poor friend’s insanity was put finally at 
rest. I had no alternative but to conclude him 
stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious 
about getting him home. While I was pondering 
upon what was best to be done, Jupiter’s voice was 
again heard. 

“ Mos feered for to ventur pon dis limb berry far 
— ’t is dead limb pretty much all de way.” 

“ Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter ? ” cried 
Legrand, in a quavering voice. 

“ Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail — done up 
for sartin — done departed dis here life.” 

“ What in the name of Heaven shall I do ? ” asked 
Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress. 

“ Do ! ” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose 
a word, “ why come home and go to bed. Come now ! 
— that’s a fine fellow. It’s getting late, and, besides, 
you remember your promise.” 

“Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the 
least, “ do you hear me ?” 

“Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.” 


292 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see 
if you think it very rotten.” 

“ Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro 
in a few moments, “ but not so berry rotten as mought 
be. Mought ventur out leetle way pon de limb by 
myself, dat’s true.” 

“By yourself! — what do you mean?” 

“Why, I mean de bug. ’Tis berry hebby bug. 
S’pose I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won’t 
break wid just de weight of one nigger.” 

“You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, appar- 
ently much relieved ; “ what do you mean by telling 
me such nonsense as that ? As sure as you let that 
beetle fall I’ll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, 
do your hear me ?” 

“Yes, massa, needn’t hollo at poor nigger dat 
style.” 

“ Well ! now listen ! — if you will venture out on the 
limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle, 
I’ll make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as 
you get down.” 

“I’m gwine, Massa Will — deed I is,” replied 


THE GOLD-BUG 


293 


the negro very promptly — “mos out to the eend 
now.” 

“ Out to the end !” here fairly screamed Legrand; 
“ do you say you are out to the end of that limb ? ” 

“ Soon be to de eend, massa — o-o-o-o-oh ! Lor-gol- 
a-marcy ! what is dis here pon de tree ?” 

“Well!” cried Legrand, highly delighted, “ what 
is it?” 

“ Why taint nuffin but a skull — somebody bin lef 
him head up de tree, and de crows done gobble 
ebery bit ob de meat off.” 

“ A skull, you say ! — very well — how is it fastened 
to the limb ? — what holds it on ?” 

) 

“Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why dis berry 
curous sarcumstance, pon my word — dare’s a 
great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on to 
de tree.” 

“ Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you — do 
you hear ? ” 

“Yes, massa.” 

“Pay attention, then — find the left eye of the 


skull.” 


294 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ Hum ! hoo ! dat’s good ! why dey ain’t no eye lef 
at all.” 

“Curse your stupidity! do you know your right 
hand from your left ? ” 

“ Yes, I nose dat — nose all about dat — ’tis my 
lef hand what I chops de wood wid.” 

“To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left 
eye is on the same side as your left hand. Now, I 
suppose, you can find the left eye of the skull, or the 
place where the left eye has been. Have you found 
it?” 

Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked. 

“ Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef 
hand of de skull too ? — cause de skull ain’t got not a 
bit ob a hand at all — nebber mind ! I got de lef’ eye 
now — here de lef eye ! what mus do wid it ? ” 

“ Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string 
will reach — but be careful and not let go your hold 
of the string.” 

“ All dat done, Massa Will ; mighty easy ting for to 
put de bug fru de hole — look out for him dar be- 
low!” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


295 

During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter’s person 
could be seen; but the beetle, which he had suffered 
to descend, was now visible at the end of the string, 
and glistened, like a globe of burnished gold, in the 
last rays of the setting sun, some of which still faintly 
illumined the eminence upon which we stood. The 
scaraboeus hung quite clear of any branches, and, if 
allowed to fall, would have fallen at our feet. Le- 
grand immediately took the scythe, and cleared with 
it a circular space, three or four yards in diameter, 
just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished 
this, ordered Jupiter to let go the string and come 
down from the tree. 

Driving a peg with great nicety, Jnto the ground, 
at the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend 
now produced from his pocket a tape-measure. Fas- 
tening one end of this at that point of the trunk of the 
tree which was nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it 
reached the peg and thence further unrolled it, in the 
direction already established by the two points of the 
tree and the peg, for the distance of fifty feet — 
Jupiter clearing away the brambles with a scythe. 


296 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


At the spot thus attained a second peg was driven, 
and about this, as a centre, a rude circle, about four 
feet in diameter, described. Taking now a spade 
himself, and giving one to Jupiter and one to me, 
Legrand begged us to set about digging as quickly 
as possible. 

To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such 
amusement at any time, and, at that particular mo- 
ment, would willingly have declined it ; for the night 
was coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the ex- 
ercise already taken; but I saw no mode of escape, 
and was fearful of disturbing my poor friend’s equa- 
nimity by a refusal. Could I have depended, indeed, 
upon Jupiter’s aid, I would have had no hesitation 
in attempting to get the lunatic home by force; but 
I was too well assured of the old negro’s disposition, 
to hope that he would assist me, under any circum- 
stances, in a personal contest with his master. I 
made no doubt that the latter had been infected with 
some of the innumerable Southern superstitions about 
money buried, and that his phantasy had received 
confirmation by the finding of the scaraboeus , or, per- 


THE GOLD-BUG 


297 


haps, by Jupiter’s obstinacy in maintaining it to be 
“a bug of real gold.” A mind disposed to lunacy 
would readily be led away by such suggestions, 
especially if chiming in with favourite preconceived 
ideas — and then I called to mind the poor fellow’s 
speech about the beetle’s being “ the index of his for- 
tune.” Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puz- 
zled, but at length I concluded to make a virtue of 
necessity — to dig with a good will, and thus the 
sooner to convince the visionary, by ocular demon- 
stration, of the fallacy of the opinion he entertained. 

The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work 
with a zeal worthy a more rational cause ; and, as the 
glare fell upon our persons and implements, I could 
not help thinking how picturesque a group we com- 
posed, and how strange and suspicious our labours 
must have appeared to any interloper who, by chance, 
might have stumbled upon our whereabouts. 

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was 
said ; and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelpings 
of the dog, who took exceeding interest in our pro- 
ceedings. He, at length, became so obstreperous 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


that we grew fearful of his giving the alarm to some 
stragglers in the vicinity; or, rather, this was the 
apprehension of Legrand ; for myself, I should have 
rejoiced at any interruption which might have en- 
abled me to get the wanderer home. The noise was, 
at length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, 
getting out of the hole with a dogged air of delibera- 
tion, tied the brute’s mouth up with one of his sus- 
penders, and then returned, with a grave chuckle, 
to his task. 

When the time mentioned had expired, we had 
reached a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any 
treasure became manifest. A general pause ensued, 
and I began to hope that the farce was at an end. 
Legrand, however, although evidently much discon- 
certed, wiped his brow thoughtfully and recom- 
menced. We had excavated the entire circle of four 
feet diameter, and now we slightly enlarged the limit, 
and went to the farther depth of two feet. Still 
nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I sin- 
cerely pitied at length clambered from the pit, 
with the bitterest disappointment imprinted upon 













* 




THE GOLD-BUG 


299 


every feature, and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, 
to put on his coat, which he had thrown off at the be- 
ginning of his labour. In the meantime I made no 
remark. Jupiter, at a signal from his master, began 
to gather up his tools. This done, and the dog hav- 
ing been unmuzzled, we returned in profound silence 
toward home. 

We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direc- 
tion, when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to 
Jupiter, and seized him by the collar. The aston- 
ished negro opened his eyes and mouth to the fullest 
extent, let fall the spades, and fell upon his knees. 

“You scoundrel!” said Legrand, hissing out the 
syllables from between his clenched teeth — “ you in- 
fernal black villain ! — speak, I tell you ! — answer me 
this instant, without prevarication ! — which — which 
is your left eye ? ” 

“ Oh, my golly, Massa Will ! ain’t dis here my lef 
eye for sartain ?” roared the terrified Jupiter, placing 
his hand upon his right organ of vision, and holding 
it there with a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate 
dread of his master’s attempt at a gouge. 


300 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“I thought so! — I knew it! hurrah!” vociferated 
Legrand, letting the negro go and executing a series 
of curvets and caracoles, much to the astonishment of 
his valet, who, arising from his knees, looked mutely, 
from his master to myself, and then from myself to 
his master. 

“Come! we must go back,” said the latter; “the 
game’s not up yet; ” and he again led the way to the 
tulip-tree. 

“ Jupiter,” said he, when we reached its foot,“ come 
here! was the skull nailed to the tree with the face 
outward, or with the face to the limb ? ” 

“De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could 
get at de eyes good, widout any trouble.” 

“ Well, then, was it this eye or that through which 
you dropped the beetle ? ” here Legrand touched each 
of Jupiter’s eyes. 

“ ’Twas dis eye, massa — de lef eye — jis as you tell 
me,” and here it was his right eye that the negro in- 
dicated. 

“ That will do — we must try it again.” 

Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, 


THE GOLD-BUG 301 

or fancied that I saw, certain indications of method, 
removed the peg which marked the spot where the 
beetle fell, to a spot about three inches to the west- 
ward of its former position. Taking, now, the tape 
measure from the nearest point of the trunk to the 
peg, as before, and continuing the extension in a 
straight line to the distance of fifty feet, a spot was 
indicated, removed, by several yards, from the point 
at which we had been digging. 

Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger 
than in the former instance, was now described, and 
we again set to work with the spade. I was dread- 
fully weary, but, scarcely understanding what had 
occasioned the change in my thoughts, I felt no 
longer any great aversion from the labour imposed. 
I had become most unaccountably interested — nay, 
even excited. Perhaps there was something, amid all 
the extravagant demeanour of Legrand — some air of 
forethought, or of deliberation — which impressd me. 
I dug eagerly, and now and then caught myself 
actually looking, with something that very much re- 
sembled expectation, for the fancied treasure, the 


302 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


vision of which had demented my unfortunate com- 
panion. At a period when such vagaries of thought 
most fully possessed me, and when we had been at 
work perhaps an hour and a half, we were again in- 
terrupted by the violent howlings of the dog. His 
uneasiness, in the first instance, had been, evidently, 
but the result of playfulness or caprice, but he now 
assumed a bitter and serious tone. Upon Jupiter’s 
again attempting to muzzle him, he made furious re- 
sistance, and, leaping into the hole, tore up the 
mould frantically with his claws. In a few seconds 
he had uncovered a mass of human bones, forming 
two complete skeletons, intermingled with several 
buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust 
of decayed woollen. One or two strokes of a spade 
upturned the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as 
we dug farther, three or four loose pieces of gold and 
silver coin came to light. 

At sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely 
be restrained, but the countenance of his master wore 
an air of extreme disappointment. He urged us, 
however, to continue our exertions, and the words 


THE GOLD-BUG 


303 


were hardly uttered when I stumbled and fell forward, 
having caught the toe of my boot in a large ring of 
iron that lay half buried in the loose earth. 

We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass 
ten minutes of more intense excitement. During this 
interval we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of 
wood, which, from its perfect preservation and won- 
derful hardness, had plainly been subjected to some 
mineralizing process — perhaps that of the bi-chloride 
of mercury. This box was three feet and a half long, 
three feet broad, and two and a half feet deep. It 
was firmly secured by bands of wrought iron, riveted, 
and forming a kind of open trellis-work over the 
whole. On each side of the chest, near the top, were 
three rings of iron — six in all — by means of which a 
firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our 
utmost united endeavours served only to disturb the 
coffer very slightly in its bed. We at once saw the 
impossibility of removing so great a weight. Luckily, 
the sole fastenings of the lid consisted of two sliding 
bolts . These we drew back — trembling and panting 
with anxiety. In an instant, a treasure of incalculable 


304 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


value lay gleaming before us. As the rays of the 
lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed upwards, 
from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, a glow 
and a glare, that absolutely dazzled our eyes. 

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with 
which I gazed. Amazement was, of course, pre- 
dominant. Legrand appeared exhausted with ex- 
citement, and spoke very few words. Jupiter’s coun- 
tenance wore, for some minutes, as deadly a pallor 
as it is possible, in the nature of things, for any negro’s 
visage to assume. He seemed stupified — thunder- 
stricken. Presently he fell upon his knees in the pit, 
and burying his naked arms up to the elbows in gold, 
let them there remain, as if enjoying the luxury of a 
bath. At length, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as 
if in a soliloquy: 

“ And dis all cum ob de goole-bug ! de putty goole- 
bug! de poor little goole-bug, what I boosed in that 
sabage kind ob style. Aint you shamed ob yourself, 
nigger ? — answer me dat ! ” 

It became necesssary, at last, that I should arouse 
both master and valet to the expediency of removing 


THE GOLD-BUG 


305 


the treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved 
us to make exertion, that we might get everything 
housed before daylight. It was difficult to say what 
should be done, and much time was spent in deliber- 
ation — so confused were the ideas of all. We finally 
lightened the box by removing two thirds of its con- 
tents, when we were enabled, with some trouble, to 
raise it from the hole. The articles taken out were 
deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to 
guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither, 
upon any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open 
his mouth until our return. We then hurriedly made 
for home with the chesty reaching the hut in safety, 
but after excessive toil, at one o’clock in the morning. 
Worn out as we were, it was not in human nature to 
do more just now. We rested until two, and had 
supper; starting for the hills immediately afterwards, 
armed with three stout sacks, which, by good luck, 
were upon the premises. A little before four we 
arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the booty, 
as equally as might be, among us, and, leaving the 
holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which, for 


306 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the second time, we deposited our golden burdens, 
just as the first faint streaks of the dawn gleamed 
from over the tree-tops in the East. 

We were now thoroughly broken down; but the 
intense excitement of the time denied us repose. After 
an unquiet slumber of some three or four hours’ dura- 
tion, we arose, as if by preconcert, to make examina- 
tion of our treasure. 

The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent 
the whole day, and the greater part of the next night, 
in a scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing 
like order or arrangement. Everything had been 
heaped in promiscuously. Having assorted all with 
care, we found ourselves possessed of even vaster 
wealth than we had at first supposed. In coin there 
was rather more than four hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars : estimating the value of the pieces, as accur- 
ately as we could, by the tables of the period. There 
was not a particle of silver. All was gold of antique 
date and of great variety: French, Spanish, and 
German money, with a few English guineas, and 
some counters, of which we had never seen specimens 


THE GOLD-BUG 


307 


before. There were several very large and heavy 
coins, so worn that we could make nothing of their 
inscriptions. There was no American money. The 
value of the jewels we found more difficulty in esti- 
mating. There were diamonds — some of them ex- 
ceedingly large and fine — a hundred and ten in all, 
and not one of them small ; eighteen rubies of remark- 
able brilliancy; three hundred and ten emeralds, all 
very beautiful; and twenty-one sapphires, with an 
opal. These stones had all been broken from their 
settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings 
themselves, which we picked out from among the 
other gold, appeared to have been beaten up with 
hammers, as if to prevent identification. Besides all 
this, there was a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments : 
nearly two hundred massive finger and ear-rings; 
rich chains — thirty of these, if I remember; eighty- 
three very large and heavy crucifixes ; five gold censers 
of great value; a prodigious golden punch-bowl, 
ornamented with richly chased vine-leaves and Bac- 
chanalian figures ; with two sword handles exquisitely 
embossed, and many other smaller articles which I 


308 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables 
exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avbirdupois ; 
and in this estimate I have not included one hundred 
and ninety-seven superb gold watches, three of the 
number being worth each five hundred dollars, if 
one. Many of them were very old, and as time- 
keepers valueless, the works having suffered more 
or less from corrosion; but all were richly jewelled 
and in cases of great worth. We estimated the en- 
tire contents of the chest, that night, at a million and 
a half of dollars ; and, upon the subsequent disposal 
of the trinkets and jewels (a few being retained for 
our own use), it was found that we had greatly un- 
dervalued the treasure. 

When, at length, we had concluded our examina- 
tion and the intense excitement of the time had in 
some measure subsided, Legrand, who saw that I 
was dying with impatience for a solution of this 
most extraordinary riddle, entered into a full detail 
of all the circumstances connected with it. 

“ You remember,” said he, “the night when I 
handed you the rough sketch I had made of the 


THE GOLD-BUG 


309 


scaraboeus. You recollect also, that I became quite 
vexed at you for insisting that my drawing resembled 
a death’s-head. When you first made this assertion 
I thought you were jesting; but afterwards I called 
to mind the peculiar spots on the back of the insect, 
and admitted to myself that your remark had some 
little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my graphic 
powers irritated me — for I am considered a good 
artist — and, therefore, when you handed me the 
scrap of parchment, I was about to crumple it up and 
throw it angrily into the fire.” 

“The scrap of paper, you mean,” said I. 

“ No: it had much of the appearance of paper, and 
at first I supposed it to be such, but when I came to 
draw upon it, I discovered it at once to be a piece of 
very thin parchment. It was quite dirty, you re- 
member. Well, as I was in the very act of crumbling 
it up, my glance fell upon the sketch at which you had 
been looking, and you may imagine my astonishment 
when I perceived, in fact, the figure of a death’s-head 
just where, it seemed to me, I had made the drawing 
of the beetle. For a moment I was too much amazed 


310 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


to think with accuracy. I knew that my design was 
very different in detail from this — although there 
was a certain similarity in general outline. Presently 
I took a candle and, seating myself at the other end of 
the room, proceeded to scrutinize the parchment 
more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own 
sketch upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My 
first idea, now, was mere surprise at the really re- 
markable similarity of outline — at the singular coin- 
cidence involved in the fact that, unknown to me, 
there should have been a skull upon the other side of 
the parchment, immediately beneath my figure of 
the scarabceusy and that this skull, not only in outline, 
but in size, should so closely resemble my drawing. 
I say the singularity of this coincidence absolutely 
stupefied me for a time. This is the usual effect of 
such coincidences. The mind struggles to establish 
a connection — a sequence of cause and effect — and, 
being unable to do so, suffers a species of temporary 
paralysis. But, when I recovered from this stupor, 
there dawned upon me gradually a conviction which 
startled me even far more than the coincidence. I 


THE GOLD-BUG 


311 


began distinctly, positively, to remember that there 
had been no drawing upon the parchment, when I 
made my sketch of the scarabceus. I became perfectly 
certain of this ; for I recollected turning up first one 
side and then the other, in search of the cleanest spot. 
Had the skull been then there, of course I could not 
have failed to notice it. Here was indeed a mystery 
which I felt it impossible to explain ; but, even at that 
early moment, there seemed to glimmer, faintly, with- 
in the most remote and secret chambers of my intel- 
lect, a glowworm-like conception of that truth which 
last night’s adventure brought to so magnificent a 
demonstration. I arose at once, and putting the 
parchment securely away, dismissed all further re- 
flection until I should be alone. 

“ When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast 
asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investi- 
gation of the affair. In the first place I considered the 
manner in which the parchment had come into my 
possession. The spot where we discovered the scara- 
bceus was on the coast of the main-land, about a 
mile eastward of the island, and but a short distance 


312 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


above high-water mark. Upon my taking hold of 
it, it gave me a sharp bite, which caused me to let it 
drop. Jupiter, with his accustomed caution, before 
seizing the insect, which had flown toward him, looked 
about him for a leaf, or something of that nature, 
by which to take hold of it. It was at this mo- 
ment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the 
scrap of parchment, which I then supposed to be 
paper. It was lying half buried in the sand, a corner 
sticking up. Near the spot where we found it, I ob- 
served the remnants of the hull of what appeared to 
have been a ship’s long-boat. The wreck seemed to 
have been there for a very great while ; for the resem- 
blance to boat timbers could scarcely be traced. 

“ Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped 
the beetle in it, and gave it to me. Soon afterward 
we turned to go home, and on the way met Lieutenant 
G — . I showed him the insect, and he begged me 
to let him take it to the fort. On my consenting, 
he thrust it forthwith into his waistcoat pocket, with- 
out the parchment in which it had been wrapped, 
and which I had continued to hold in my hand during 


THE GOLD-BUG 


313 


his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my changing 
my mind, and thought it best to make sure of the 
prize at once — you know how enthusiastic he is on 
all subjects connected with Natural History. At the 
same time, without being conscious of it, I must have 
deposited the parchment in my own pocket. 

“You remember that when I went to the table, for 
the purpose of making a sketch of the beetle, I found 
no paper where it was usually kept. I looked in the 
drawer, and found none there. I searched my pock- 
ets, hoping to find an old letter, when my hand fell 
upon the parchment. I thus detail the precise mode 
in which it came into my possession; for the circum- 
stances impressed me with peculiar force. 

“No doubt you will think me fanciful — but I 
had already established a kind of connection. I had 
put together two links of a great chain. There 
was a boat lying upon a sea-coast, and not far 
from the boat was a parchment — not a paper — 
with a skull depicted upon it. You will, of course, 
ask ‘where is the connection?’ I reply that the 
skull, or death’s-head, is the well-known emblem of 


314 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


the pirate. The flag of the death’s-head is hoisted 
in all engagements. 

“I have said that the scrap was parchment, and 
not paper. Parchment is durable — almost imperish- 
able. Matters of little moment are rarely consigned 
to parchment; since, for the mere ordinary purposes 
of drawing or writing, it is not nearly so well adapted 
as paper. This reflection suggested some meaning — 
some relevancy — in the death’s-head. I did not fail to 
observe, also, the form of the parchment. Although one 
of its corners had been, by some accident, destroyed, it 
could be seen that the original form was oblong. It 
was just such a slip, indeed, as might have been 
chosen for a memorandum — for a record of something 
to be long remembered and carefully preserved.” 

“ But,” I interposed, “ you say that the skull was 
not upon the parchment when you made the drawing 
of the beetle. How then do you trace any connection 
between the boat and the skull — since the latter, ac- 
cording to your own admission, must have been de- 
signed (God only knows how or by whom) at some 
period subsequent to your sketching the scarabaeus ? ” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


315 


“Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although 
the secret, at this point, I had comparatively little 
difficulty in solving. My steps were sure, and could 
afford but a single result. I reasoned, for example, 
thus : When I drew the scarabceus , there was no skull 
apparent upon the parchment. When I had com- 
pleted the drawing I gave it to you, and observed you 
narrowly until you returned it. You , therefore, did 
not design the skull, and no one else was present to 
do it. Then it was not done by human agency. And 
nevertheless it was done. 

“ At this stage of my reflections I endeavoured to re- 
member, and did remember, with entire distinctness, 
every incident which occurred about the period in 
question. The weather was chilly (O rare and 
happy accident!), and a fire was blazing on the 
hearth. I was heated with exercise and sat near the 
table. You, however, had drawn a chair close to the 
chimney. Just as I placed the parchment in your 
hand, and as your were in the act of inspecting it, 
Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon 
your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed 


316 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


him and kept him off, while your right, holding the 
parchment, was permitted to fall listlessly between 
your knees, and in close proximity to the fire. At 
one moment I thought the blaze had caught it, and 
was about to caution you, but, before I could speak, 
you had withdrawn it, and were engaged in its exami- 
nation. When I considered all these particulars, I 
doubted not for a moment that heat had been the 
agent in bringing to light, upon the parchment, the 
skull which I saw designed upon it. You are well 
aware that chemical preparations exist, and have 
existed, time out of mind, by means of which it is 
possible to write upon either paper or vellum, so that 
the characters shall become visible only when sub- 
jected to the action of fire. Zaffre, digested in aqua 
regia , and diluted with four times its weight of water, 
is sometimes employed; a green tint results. The 
regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a 
red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter in- 
tervals after the material written upon cools, but again 
become apparent upon the re-application of heat. 

“I now scrutinized the death’s-head with care. 


THE GOLD-BUG 


317 


Its outer edges — the edges of the drawing nearest 
the edge of the vellum — were far more distinct than 
the others. It was clear that the action of the caloric 
had been imperfect or unequal. I immediately kin- 
dled a fire, and subjected every portion of the parch- 
ment to a glowing heat. At first, the only effect was 
the strengthening of the faint lines in the skull; but, 
upon persevering in the experiment, there became 
visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally opposite 
to the spot in which the death’s-head was delineated, 
the figure of what I at first supposed to be a goat. A 
closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it was 
intended for a kid.” 

“Ha, ha!” said I; “to be sure I have no right to 
laugh at you — a million and a half of money is too 
serious a matter for mirth — but you are not about to 
establish a third link in your chain : you will not find 
any especial connection between your pirates and a 
goat — pirates, you know, have nothing to do with 
goats; they appertain to the farming interest.” 

“ But I have just said that the figure was not that 
of a goat.” 


318 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“ Well, a kid then — pretty much the same thing.” 

“ Pretty much, but not altogether,” said Legrand. 
“You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at 
once looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind 
of punning or hieroglyphical signature. I say signa- 
ture; because its position upon the vellum suggested 
this idea. The death’s-head at the corner diagonally 
opposite, had, in the same manner, the air of a stamp, 
or seal. But I was sorely put out by the absence of 
all else — of the body to my imagined instrument — 
of the text for my context.” 

“ I presume you expected to find a letter between 
the stamp and the signature.” 

“ Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irre- 
sistibly impressed with a presentiment of some vast 
good fortune impending. I can scarcely say why. 
Perhaps, after all, it was rather a desire than an actual 
belief; — but do you know that Jupiter’s silly words, 
about the bug being of solid gold, had a remarkable 
effect upon my fancy ? And then the series of acci- 
dents and coincidents — these were so very extraor- 
dinary. Do you observe how mere an accident it 


THE GOLD-BUG 


319 


was that these events should have occurred upon the 
sole day of all the year in which it has been, or may 
be, sufficiently cool for fire, and that without the fire, 
or without the intervention of the dog at the precise 
moment in which he appeared, I should never have 
become aware of the death’s-head, and so never the 
possessor of the treasure.” 

“ But proceed — I am all impatience.” 

“ Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories 
current — the thousand vague rumours afloat about 
money buried, somewhere upon the Atlantic coast, 
by Kidd and his associates. These rumours must 
have had some foundation in fact. And that the 
rumours have existed so long and so continuously, 
could have resulted, it appeared to me, only from the 
circumstance of the buried treasures still remaining 
entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder for a 
time, and afterward reclaimed it, the rumours would 
scarcely have reached us in their present unvarying 
form. You will observe that the stories told are all 
about money-seekers, not about money-finders. Had 
the pirate recovered his money, there the affair would 


320 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


have dropped. It seemed to me that some accident 
— say the loss of a memorandum indicating its locality 
— had deprived him of the means of recovering it, 
and that this accident had become known to his fol- 
lowers, who otherwise might never have heard that 
the treasure had been concealed at all, and who, busy- 
ing themselves in vain, because unguided, attempts 
to regain it, had given first birth, and then uni- 
versal currency, to the reports which are now so com- 
mon. Have you ever heard of any important treasure 
being unearthed along the coast ? ” 

“ Never.” 

“But that Kidd’s accumulations were immense 
is well known. I took it for granted, therefore, that 
the earth still held them; and you will scarcely be 
surprised when I tell you that I felt a hope, nearly 
amounting to certainty, that the parchment so 
strangely found involved a lost record of the place 
of deposit.” 

“ But how did you proceed ? ” 

“ I held the vellum against the fire, after increasing 
the heat, but nothing appeared. I now thought it 


THE GOLD-BUG 


321 


possible that the coating of dirt might have some- 
thing to do with the failure; so I carefully rinsed the 
parchment by pouring warm water over it, and, hav- 
ing done this, I placed it in a tin pan, with the skull 
downward, and put the pan upon a furnace of lighted 
charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan having become 
thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, and, to my 
inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several places, 
with what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. 
Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain 
another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was 
just as you see it now.” 

Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, 
submitted it to my inspection. The following char- 
acters were rudely traced, in a red tint, between the 
death’s-head and the goat : 

“53ttt305))6*;4826)4t)4j;806*;48t8l60))85;lt(;: 
t *8f83 (88) 5*| ;46( ;88*96* ? ;8)*J ( ;485) ;5* f2 :8 5 ; ;)8* 
; : *t ( ;4956*2 (5 * — 4) 8l8* ;4069285) ;)6f8) 4 1 1 ;1 (J 9 ; 
48081 ;8:8tl;48f85;4)485t528806*81(t9;48;(88;4(t? 
34;48)4t;161;:188;t ?;” 


322 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“But,” said I, returning him the slip, “I am as 
much in the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of 
Golconda awaiting me upon my solution of this 
enigma, I am quite sure that I should be unable to 
earn them.” 

“And yet,” said Legrand, “the solution is by no 
means so difficult as you might be led to imagine from 
the first hasty inspection of the characters. These 
characters, as any one might readily guess, form a ci- 
pher — that is to say, they convey a meaning ; but then, 
from what is known of Kidd, I could not suppose 
him capable of constructing any of the more abstruse 
cryptographs. I made up my mind, at once, that 
this was of a simple species — such, however, as would 
appear, to the crude intellect of the sailor, absolutely 
insoluble without the key.” 

“ And you really solved it ? ” 

“Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness 
ten thousand times greater. Circumstances and a 
certain bias of mind have led me to take interest in 
such riddles, and it may well be doubted whether 
human ingenuity can construct an enigma of the kind 


THE GOLD-BUG 


323 


which human ingenuity may not, by proper applica- 
tion, resolve. In fact, having once established con- 
nected and legible characters, I scarcely gave a 
thought to the mere difficulty of developing their im- 
port. 

“ In the present case — indeed in all cases of secret 
writing — the first question regards the language of 
the cipher; for the principles of solution, so far, es- 
pecially, as the more simple ciphers are concerned, 
depend upon, and are varied by, the genius of the 
particular idiom. In general, there is no alternative 
but experiment (directed by probabilities) of every 
tongue known to him who attempts the solution, until 
the true one be attained. But, with the cipher now 
before us all difficulty was removed by the signature. 
The pun upon the word ‘ Kidd’ is appreciable in no 
other language than the English. But for this con- 
sideration I should have begun my attempts with the 
Spanish and French, as the tongues in which a secret 
of this kind would most naturally have been written 
by a pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assume 
the cryptograph to be English. 


324 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“You observe there are no divisions between the 
words. Had there been divisions the task would have 
been comparatively easy. In such cases I should 
have commenced with a collation and analysis of the 
shorter words, and, had a word of a single letter oc- 
curred, as is most likely (a or /, for example), I 
should have considered the solution as assured. But, 
there being no division, my first step was to ascertain 
the predominant letters, as well as the least frequent. 
Counting all, I constructed a table thus : 

Of the character 8 there are 33. 

“ 26. 

4 “ 19. 

t) “ 16- 

* “ 13. 

5 “ 12. 

6 “ 11 . 

tl “ 8. 

0 “ 6. 

92 “ 5. 

:3 “ 4. 

? “ 3. 

If “ 2. 

— . “ 1 . 


THE GOLD-BUG 


325 


“ Now, in English, the letter which most frequently 
occurs is e. Afterwards, the succession runs thus: 
aoidhnrstuycfglmwbkpqxz. E predom- 
inates, however, so remarkably, that an individual 
sentence of any length is rarely seen, in which it is 
not the prevailing character. 

“Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the 
groundwork for something more than a mere guess. 
The general use which may be made of the table is 
obvious — but, in this particular cipher, we shall only 
very partially require its aid. As our predominant 
character is 8, we will commence by assuming it as 
the e of the natural alphabet. To verify the supposi- 
tion, let us observe if the 8 be seen often in couples — 
for e is doubled with great frequency in English, in 
such words, for example, as ‘meet,’ ‘fleet,’ ‘speed,’ 
‘seen,’ ‘been,’ ‘agree,’ etc. In the present instance 
we see it doubled no less than five times, although 
the cryptograph is brief. 

“ Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all words 
in the language, ‘the’ is most usual; let us see, 
therefore, whether there are not repetitions of any 


326 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


three characters, in the same order of collocation, the 
last of them being 8. If we discover repetitions of 
such letters, so arranged, they will most probably 
represent the word ‘the.’ On inspection, we find 
no less than seven such arrangements, the characters 
being ;48. We may, therefore, assume that; repre- 
sents t, 4 represents h , and 8 represents e — the last 
being now well confirmed. Thus a great step has 
been taken. 

“ But, having established a single word, we are en- 
abled to establish a vastly important point; that is to 
say, several commencements and terminations of 
other words. Let us refer, for example, to the last 
instance but one, in which the combination ;48 occurs 
— not far from the end of the cipher. We know that 
the; immediately ensuing is the commencement of a 
word, and, of the six characters succeeding this ‘ the,’ 
we are cognizant of no less than five. Let us set 
these characters down, thus, by the letters we know 
them to represent, leaving a space for the unknown — 


t eeth. 


THE GOLD-BUG 


327 


“ Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the 4 th \ 
as forming no portion of the word commencing with 
the first t ; since, by experiment of the entire alphabet 
for a letter adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that 
no word can be formed of which this th can be a part. 
We are thus narrowed into 

t ee, 

and, going through the alphabet, if necesssary, as be- 
fore, we arrive at the word ‘ tree as the sole possible 
reading. We thus gain another letter, r, represented 
by (; with the words ‘the tree’ in juxtaposition. 

“ Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, 
we again see the combination ;48, and employ it by 
way of termination to what immediately precedes. 
We have thus this arrangement : 

the tree ;4(J ?34 the, 

or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it 
reads thus: 


the tree thr J ?3h the. 


328 MONSIEUR DUPIN 

“ Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we 
leave blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus : 

the tree thr...h the, 

when the word ‘ through * makes itself evident at 
once. But this discovery gives us three new letters, 
o, u , and g , represented by J, ?, and 3. 

“Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for 
combinations of known characters, we find, not very 
far from the beginning, this arrangement, 

83(88, or egree, 

which plainly is the conclusion of the word ‘ degree,’ 
and gives us another letter, d, represented by f. 

“Four letters beyond the word ‘degree,’ we per- 
ceive the combination 

;46(;88* 

“Translating the known characters, and repre- 
senting the unknown by dots, as before, we read thus : 

th.rtee, 

an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 


THE GOLD-BUG 329 

‘thirteen,’ and again furnishing us with two new 
characters, i and n , represented by 6 and *. 

“Referring, now, to the beginning of the crypto- 
graph, we find the combination, 


“ Translating as before, we obtain 
.good. 


which assures us that the first letter is A, and that the 
first two words are ‘ A good.’ 

“ To avoid confusion, it is now time that we ar- 
range our key, as far as discovered, in a tabular 
form. It will stand thus : 

5 represents a 

t “ d 


8 

3 

4 
6 
* 

t 

( 






e 

g 

h 

i 

n 

o 

r 



t 

u 


330 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


“We have, therefore, no less than eleven of the 
most important letters represented, and it will be 
unnecessary to proceed with the details of the solu- 
tion. I have said enough to convince you that ci- 
phers of this nature are readily soluble, and to give 
you some insight into the rationale of their develop- 
ment. But be assured that the specimen before 
us appertains to the very simplest species of crypto- 
graph. It now only remains to give you the full 
translation of the characters upon the parchment, as 
unriddled. Here it is : 

‘“A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the devil's 
seat twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast 
and by north main branch seventh limb east side shoot 
from the left eye of the death' s-head a bee-line from the 
tree through the shot fifty feet out.' ” 

“But,” said I, “the enigma seems still in as bad a 
condition as ever. How is it possible to extort a 
meaning from all this jargon about ‘devil’s seats,’ 
‘ death’s-heads,’ and ‘ bishop’s hotels ?’ ” 

“ I confess,” replied Legrand, “ that the matter still 


THE GOLD-BUG 


331 


wears a serious aspect, when regarded with a casual 
glance. My first endeavour was to divide the sentence 
into the natural division intended by the cryptograph- 
ist ” 

“ You mean, to punctuate it ? ” 

“ Something of that kind.” 

“ But how was it possible to effect this ? ” 

“ I reflected that it had been a 'point with the writer 
to run his words together without division, so as to 
increase the difficulty of solution. Now, a not-over- 
acute man, in pursuing such an object, would be 
nearly certain to overdo the matter. When, in the 
course of his composition, he arrived at a break in 
his subject which would naturally require a pause, 
or a point, he would be exceedingly apt to run his 
characters, at this place, more than usually close to- 
gether. If you will observe the MS., in the present 
instance, you will easily detect five such cases of un- 
usual crowding. Acting upon this hint, I made the 
division thus: 

“ 4 A good glass in the bishop’s hostel in the devil’s 


332 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


seat — forty -one degrees and thirteen minutes — north- 
east and by north — main branch seventh limb east side 
— shoot from the left eye of the death’ s-head — a bee- 
line from the tree through the shot fifty feet out .’ ” 

“Even this division,” said I, “leaves me still in 
the dark.” 

“ It left me also in the dark,” replied Legrand, “ for 
a few days ; during which I made diligent inquiry in 
the neighbourhood of Sullivan’s Island, for any build- 
ing which went by name of the ‘ Bishop’s Hotel ;’ for, 
of course, I dropped the obsolete word ‘ hostel.’ Gain- 
ing no information on the subject, I was on the point 
of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in 
a more systematic manner, when one morning, it 
entered into my head, quite suddenly, that this ‘ Bish- 
op’s Hostel’ might have some reference to an old 
family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out of 
mind, had held possession of an ancient manor-house, 
about four miles to the northward of the island. I 
accordingly went over to the plantation, and re-in- 
stituted my inquiries among the older negroes of the 


THE GOLD-BUG 


333 


place. At length one of the most aged of the women 
said that she had heard of such a place as Bessops 
Castle , and thought that she could guide me to it, 
but that it was not a castle, nor a tavern, but a 
high rock. 

“ I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after 
some demur, she consented to accompany me to the 
spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, 
dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. 
The ‘castle’ consisted of an irregular assemblage of 
cliffs and rocks — one of the latter being quite remark- 
able for its height as well as for its insulated and arti- 
ficial appearance. I clambered to its apex, and then 
felt much at a loss as to what should be next done. 

“ While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell upon 
a narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps 
a yard below the summit upon which I stood. This 
ledge projected about eighteen inches, and was not 
more than a foot wide, while a niche in the cliff just 
above it gave it a rude resemblance to one of the hol- 
low-backed chairs used by our ancestors. I made 
no doubt that here was the ‘ devil’s-seat’ alluded to 


334 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp the full secret 
of the riddle. 

“ The ‘ good glass,’ I knew, could have reference to 
nothing but a telescope; for the word ‘glass’ is rarely 
employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, 
I at once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a defi- 
nite point of view, admitting no variation , from which 
to use it. Nor did I hesitate to believe that the phrases 
‘ forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes,’ and ‘ north- 
east and by north,’ were intended as directions by the 
levelling of the glass. Greatly excited by these dis- 
coveries, I hurried home, procured a telescope, and 
returned to the rock. 

* I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it 
was impossible to retain a seat upon it except in one 
particular position. This fact confirmed my pre- 
conceived idea. I proceeded to use the glass. Of 
course, the ‘ forty-one degrees and thirteen minutes’ 
could allude to nothing but elevation above the visible 
horizon, since the horizontal direction was clearly in- 
dicated by the words, ‘ northeast and by north.’ This 
latter direction I at once established by means of a 


THE GOLD-BUG 


335 


pocket-compass; then, pointing the glass as nearly 
at an angle of forty-one degrees of elevation as I 
could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or 
down, until my attention was arrested by a circular 
rift or opening in the foliage of a large tree that over- 
topped its fellows in the distance. In the centre of 
this rift I perceived a white spot, but could not at first 
distinguish what it was. Adjusting the focus of the 
telescope, I again looked, and now made it out to be 
a human skull. 

“ Upon this discovery I was so sanguine as to con- 
sider the enigma solved; for the phrase 4 main branch, 
seventh limb, east side/ could refer only to the position 
of the skull upon the tree, while 4 shoot from the left 
eye of the death’s-head’ admitted, also, of but one 
interpretation, in regard to a search for buried treas- 
ure. I perceived that the design was to drop a bullet 
from the left eye of the skull, and that a bee-line, or, 
in other words, a straight line, drawn from the nearest 
point of the trunk through the shot (or the spot 
where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a dis- 
tance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point — 


336 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


and beneath this point I thought it at least 'possible 
that a deposit of value lay concealed.” 

“All this,” I said, “is exceedingly clear, and, al- 
though ingenious, still simple and explicit. When 
you left the Bishop’s Hotel, what then ? ” 

“ Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the 
tree, I turned homeward. The instant that I left 
‘the devil’s-seat,’ however, the circular rift vanished; 
nor could I get a glimpse of it afterward, turn as I 
would. What seems to me the chief ingenuity in this 
whole business, is the fact (for repeated experiment 
has convinced me it is a fact) that the circular opening 
in question is visible from no other attainable point 
of view than that afforded by the narrow ledge upon 
the face of the rock. 

“ In this expedition to the ‘ Bishop’s Hotel’ I had 
been attended by Jupiter, who had, no doubt, ob- 
served, for some weeks past, the abstraction of my 
demeanour, and took especial care not to leave me 
alone. But, on the next day, getting up very early, I 
contrived to give him the slip, and went into the hills 
in search of the tree. After much toil I found it. 


THE GOLD-BUG 337 

When I came home at night my valet proposed to give 
me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I 
believe you are as well acquainted as myself.” 

“I suppose,” said I, “you missed the spot, in the 
first attempt at digging, through Jupiter’s stupidity 
in letting the bug fall through the right instead of 
through the left eye of the skull.” 

“Precisely. This mistake made a difference of 
about two inches and a half in the ‘ shot’ — that is to 
say, in the position of the peg nearest the tree; and 
had the treasure been beneath the ‘shot,’ the error 
would have been of little moment ; but the ‘ shot,’ to- 
gether with the nearest point of the tree, were merely 
two points for the establishment of a line of direction ; 
of course, the error, however trivial in the beginning, 
increased as we proceeded with the line, and by the 
time we had gone fifty feet threw us quite off the 
scent. But for my deep-seated impressions that 
treasure was here somewhere actually buried, we 
might have had all our labour in vain.” 

“ I presume the fancy of the skull — pf letting 
fall a bullet through the skull’s eye — was suggested 


338 


MONSIEUR DUPIN 


to Kidd by the piratical flag. No doubt he felt a 
kind of poetical consistency in recovering his money 
through this ominous insignium.” 

“Perhaps so; still, I cannot help thinking that 
common-sense had quite as much to do with the 
matter as poetical consistency. To be visible from 
the Devil’s seat, it was necessary that the object, if 
small, should be white; and there is nothing like 
your human skull for retaining and even increasing 
its whiteness under exposure to all vicissitudes of 
weather.” 

“But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in 
swinging the beetle — how excessively odd ! I was 
sure you were mad. And why did you insist upon let- 
ting fall the bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull ? ” 

“Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by 
your evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so 
resolved to punish you quietly, in my own way, by a 
little bit of sober mystification. For this reason I 
swung the beetle, and for this reason I let it fall from 
the tree. An observation of yours about its great 
weight suggested the latter idea.” 


THE GOLD-BUG 


339 


“Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point 
which puzzles me. What are we to make of the 
skeletons found in the hole ? ” 

“ That is a question I am no more able to answer 
than yourself. There seems, however, only one 
plausible way of accounting for them — and yet it is 
dreadful to believe in such atrocity as my suggestion 
would imply. It is clear that Kidd — if Kidd indeed 
secreted this treasure, which I doubt not — it is clear 
that he must have had assistance in the labour. But 
the worst of this labour concluded, he may have 
thought it expedient to remove all participants in his 
secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with a mattock 
were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy in 
the pit; perhaps it required a dozen — who shall 
tell?” 

THE END 


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pecially), selecting the camp site, the dividing 
of labor among the party, the cooking, and a 
multitude of other things essential to be in- 
formed of accurately before one sets out. The 
whole is presented in the form of a narrative, 
and is written in a spontaneous, intimate vein 
that breathes in every line the love of nature 
which has already made Mr. White famous 
through such woodland fiction as “ The 
Blazed Trail,” “The Silent Places,” “Conjuror’s 
House,” etc. The book is an unusual combi- 
nation of information and entertainment. 

Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty 
Net, $1.50 

S©cClute, Phillips & Co. 


lb S 78 



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